Kerosene Hearts and Matchbox Bodies
by Galanerd
Summary: Ares Delgado came to Beacon Hills for a peaceful, boring life. Things are going great, until her younger cousin and his scheming best friend decide to go search for a body. On top of trying to help Scott not turn into a rage monster, she's teaming up with Mr. Gloom and Doom Derek Hale to find a rampaging Alpha. So much for boring. (eventual Derek/OC)
1. Chapter 1

**Obligatory I don't own _Teen Wolf_ (or any other referenced fandoms) disclaimer. Now with translations!  
**

* * *

Stiles Stilinski is hanging upside down from the back patio and Scott has a baseball bat in his hands like he's waiting for the kid's head to turn into a _piñata_ full of _Mazapan_ and _chicle_ instead of a skull full of brain matter and snot. It's only by chance I saw the idiots, having come into the kitchen because, well, that's usually where people keep the food. But really, with the overwhelming lack of preservation between the two of them, I shouldn't have expected anything else.

I take a breath to mentally prepare myself. After all, one needs to be in peek condition to pull off the perfect Mexican Mom Voice™ .

" _Qué están haciendo?!_ " I throw the door open with a bang as it slams into the outside wall. Both boys let out shrill screams that could put piccolos to shame. Stiles, poor spastic child that he is, does an excellent expression of a startled baby bat before he loses his footing and disappears behind the rail.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaims, rushing to the edge and looking over to where his friend is no doubt lying in a heap.

"Oh my god!" I gasp, doubling over and clutching at my sides. "Sti-Stiles, dude!" I try to move to the rail to make sure he's still alive, because I can't say I'm too keen on the idea of the death of the Sheriff's kid being on my head, but I can barely breathe from laughing so hard. I only manage to shuffle forward a couple inches before Stiles springs up, and my laughter only hardens and my progress halts completely at the dark expression on his face. He tries so hard to be scary and yet, nothing.

"I could have broken my neck!" he snaps. The noise that comes out of my mouth is not human. More like heated tea kettle. "You don't even care!"

I throw my head back and let out one last cackle before taking a breath and calming down, patting my belly melodramatically. "Oh my lanta, your faces! I wish I had that on video."

"Ares, what are you doing here?" Scott demands, brows furrowed. I arch a brow and cross my arms, lean my hip against the rail of the patio next to where Stiles stands.

"Well, I live here now, you see."

He rolls his eyes. "That's not what I meant."

"I just got off work. Tara sent me home after a call. You know, the nice deputy lady I work the front desk of the _Sheriff's station_ with sometimes?" I make a point to look at Stiles. There's no way he wasn't listening in when Tara called the Sheriff about the body found in the preserve. He stares back with wide eyes that try to be innocent but really come off eccentric. "Something you wanna share?"

Scott shuffles and I turn my gaze to him. He's got the weaker willpower of the two when it comes to staving off guilt. He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck, and I know I chose wisely. Stiles drops his shoulders and rolls his head to the side in annoyance.

"Dude, seriously?" He looks up to me with pleading eyes. "Ares, please, you gotta let us go!"

I cock my head to side, feign deep thought. "Yeah, about that. No."

"Ares!" Scott exclaims, throwing his arms to his sides and really. I thought he was past the tantrum stage.

" _Que no_ ," I say firmly, looking at both of them incredulously. " _Están locos_? You don't know what you'll find out there!"

Stiles lifts a finger. "The plan is to find the body."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you _kidding_ me, Stilinski? Did it maybe occur to you that what put the body there could still be there?" He let his finger drop. "Or the fact that this one," I gesture to Scott with an arm, "stops breathing if he so much as thinks too hard?"

"Hey!"

I ignore him, because where is the lie? "Not to mention how incredibly disrespectful the entire thing is," I go on. "My _tia_ Lettie said this is how people get haunted and you're gonna get cursed or something," I warn them. Scott rolls his head back in an exaggerated eye roll. This isn't the first time he's had to deal with my superstition, but shit rubs off when you've heard about it your whole life. "Also," I turn to Stiles, "what if your dad finds you?"

Stiles makes a face. "We'll be careful. Look, you haven't even been here a full year, but do you really think this is the first time we've done something like this?"

Scott opens his mouth to agree. "You better think about your next words carefully, _mijo_ , or they'll end up being your _last_ words." His mouth shuts with an audible snap. Neither boy moves or speaks, and a tense silence falls in until Stiles throws his head back and groans in frustration.

"Ares, why do you have to be such a mom about this?" he demands, voice rising in pitch with a whine, and I'm reminded that these nerds are only children and don't know the curse of older siblings. Well. That's about to change.

"I wouldn't have to be the adult here if you two wouldn't do such stupid stuff," I counter.

Stiles scoffs. "Being nineteen doesn't make you an adult."

"I'm legally obligated to stop you!"

"Ares, please?" Scott pleads I turn to face him and shit. Shit, he's got the puppy dog eye thing going on. "We'll be careful." He brings up the bat in his hand. "I'll bring this if you're worried about the killer still being out there."

"I'll even let Scott hold the flashlight," Stiles interjects.

"Stiles, I will stab you," I snap, pointing a finger at his chest. He raises his hands and takes a step back. The beginning of a headache makes itself known with the ever growing pulses at my temples and I have to ask myself if it's even something I should fight them over. " _Ay,_ Melissa is gonna kill me." I rub my face with a hand. "Look, here's what's gonna happen, alright?" Both boys lean forward eagerly. I should just knock their heads together and be done with it. "We're going inside. You two are going to Scott's room, I'm staying in the kitchen, because I seriously haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm about to die, my blood sugar's so low." Scott's face falls like I just told him he was never allowed to see Stiles again, and I feel is it isn't because of my questionable eating habits. "If you two happen to not be in said room by the time I get done, well, I don't see how that can be helped." I arch a brow at Stiles, because while I love Scotty, from what I gather it's Stiles that has always been the brains.

Stiles throws his arms up in victory. "Yes! You're the best, Ares!" He vaults over the rail, grabs Scott's arm and pulls him inside. "I owe you. Seriously, next time you need something illegally obtained, hit me up," he calls over his shoulder.

I snort, shaking my head at him. "Yeah, like I need you to get illegal shit," I mutter following the boys in and locking the door behind me. "But whatever, I'm sure it'll come in handy after Melissa has already murdered me. Of course, I'll already be in jail, as the Sheriff would have arrested me for the endangerment of minors. That's a thing, right?"

I don't get an answer, because the boys already disappeared. I move to the fridge, throwing open the door to search for food. The boys' footsteps are heavy on stairs. It's like they aren't even trying to be careful. I shake my head, trying to pin the knot in my stomach on hunger.

"I just fucked up, didn't I?"

* * *

" _Nooo, mi tortaaa!_ " My phone screams in my ear right as I'm about to drop off to sleep.

"Wha' the fuuuck?" I demand to no one as I push myself up onto my elbows, sweeping my hair out of my face with one hand and reaching for the offending device with the other. "Who the hell? Son of a fuck!" My eyes snap shut at the sudden light of a thousand suns as a new message comes through. Once I'm sure that my retinas haven't been burned to hell, I slowly open my eyes.

 **Stiletto (2 new messages)**

"Oh my god, fuckin' Stiles, why?" With a quick swipe, the messages pull up.

 _So my dad found me, Scott's still out there_  
 _You might want to make sure he's alive_

It takes a second for the words to make sense. Once they do, I let my face fall into my pillow.

"Are you fucking _kidding me_?!" The scream is muffled through the pillow. I take a moment to compose myself before throwing off my covers and jumping up. Almost immediately the room tilts. "Oh, too fast, too fast."

The second I'm sure I won't fall flat on my face I flick on the Scentsy on my nightstand, the room dimly lighting up. Enough for me to see my hoodie thrown on my trunk under the window.

"I'm killing both of those _pendejos_ ," I mutter, pulling the hoodie on before snatching my phone off my bed and pulling up the contacts as I stuff my feet into my slippers and grab my keys from my nightstand. I told them, didn't I? Bad juju to go looking for dead bodies, but _nooo_ , let's not listen to Ares. Finding **Human Puppy** on my phone, I press call, rushing down the stairs as quickly as I dare in the dark.

"Ares?" Scott's voice comes out slightly wheezy and panicked and shit, he's gonna die. He's gonna die and I'm the one that let him.

" _Donde estás?_ " I demand, keeping my own worry and fear out of my voice, as I throw open the front door and lock it from the inside before letting it slam shut behind me and seriously. Thank god Melissa is still at work. "Stiles texted me."

"He-he did?"

"Yes, _pendejo_ , he did," I snap, jumping into my car-the gloriously green old Ford Explorer lovingly dubbed the Turtle-and sticking the key into the ignition. "I'm coming to get you, so where are you?"

* * *

Scott brings up one hand to shield his eyes from my headlights and the other pressed to his side when I pull up in front of him. He's standing on the side of the road, the highway, and at least he's got the brains to stay back enough so that some drunk won't go and run him down. I throw the Turtle into park and jump out, not minding the rain.

" _Que te dije_?" I demand, marching up to him. "I said they'd find you, didn't I?" He ducks his head and shuffles to the passenger side of the car. My eyes drop to where his hand is still at his side. "What happened?"

"Nothing, can we just go now?"

"Scott-"

"Ares, I'm fine! Let's just go!" With that he jumps in the car, slamming the door shut behind him. I stare after him for a second before taking a breath and mirroring his action. Before I get the door closed a long, lonely howl rings out from the trees.

"What the fuck?" I slam the door shut and flick the lock into place. Scott leans forward and squints his eyes as he looks out the window.

"You hear that?"

"If by that you mean the Hell Hound howl, then yes, yes I did," I answer, putting the car in drive and doing a quick u-turn to get the seven hells out of there. "Do I need to take you to the hospital at all?" I ask, careful to keep my tone neutral and judgement free, because the last thing I need is for him to freak out. He doesn't answer at first, but when I glance over at him, he shakes his head. "Okay then. Good. I'm not wearing a bra anyway."

"Ares!"

I grin, reach over and mess up his already tragic hair. While the Delgado Curls™ literally everyone else on our side of the family inherited - myself included - are more so waves on him, times like these they stick out as bad as with the rest of us. He shoves my hand away, but I catch the smile, grudging as it is.

"Seriously though, _mijo_ , you alright?" I ask. He nods once.

"I'm fine, just fell and landed funny," he assures. Lies and blasphemy, but I don't call him out on it since he doesn't seem to actually be dying. He goes on, quietly this time. "Thanks for coming to get me."

I shrug. "I needed blackmail material." He groans, throwing his head back and I grin at him.

So maybe the night wasn't a complete fuck up.

* * *

Alan Deaton might be a bit too cryptic at times and his advice almost never makes any sense, but all in all, he's a pretty cool guy. I mean, he gave me a job when I first got here, and that alone says a lot about him, I think.

"Do you think I was too easy on him?" I ask, stroking Mr. Pickle's head to keep him calm as Dr. Deaton gives him some vaccine or another. The poor little Yorkie is kinda skittish."I mean, I texted Aaron and Alicia last night when I got home asking for advice and she told me I shoulda beat him upside the head, try and knock out the McCall stupid he got from his daddy." I pause. "I considered it. Aaron told me I shoulda made him walk. Also considered it."

Deaton clears his throat to hide his laugh as he straightens, setting the syringe away and patting Mr. Pickle. "You seem to have a pretty solid support system there with your siblings."

I nod, smiling. "Yeah, they're the best." It's not a lie. They took care of me better than Dad ever did, especially after he met Elisa. Shit, they're the only reason I made it to Beacon Hills. Where our little cousin and his friend do stupid shit ever other day. "They never did anything too stupid. Like, I dunno, go look for dead bodies in the middle of the night in the middle of the dark and scary woods." I pause. "And I already made it very obvious that Scott and Stiles owe me big. They're paying for my gas for the next month."

"I think you did fine," Deaton assures with a small smile. "You made sure he was okay, and then punished him as you saw fit." He picks up the dog and gestures to the front. "If you want, I can have him clean out the kennels without telling him why."

I hold the door open for him, bringing my hand up to my forehead to salute him as he walks by. "Bless you, sir. You're doing the Lord's work."

He chuckles. Mr. Pickle's owner waits out in the front, an older guy who absolutely beams when he sees his dog alive and well. Deaton hands said canine over and I slip into the chair in front of the computer to pull up the price.

"How much will it be, doc?"

"One billion dollars," I say in my best Dr. Evil voice as I hold out my hand for his card. The dude snorts his laughter, but hands it over anyway.

"That's a bit out of my pay range, miss."

"Then it's a good thing the doc gave you a discount. It's only, like, twenty bucks this time around." I swipe the card, print the receipt, and hand both back.

The man nods his thanks and says his farewells before walking out, taking the last patient for the next two hours with him. I turn the chair, because Deaton knows what's up and gets the twirly kind, and face the doc."Do you want me to wait 'til Scott gets here to ditch out or..."

"There's nothing here left to do. It wouldn't hurt if you wanted to go home twenty minutes early," he says lightly.

"Sweetness." I sign out of the computer and jump up. "You're the best."

"Have a good afternoon, Ares," Deaton says as I head for the front door.

"Ditto, doc," I call over my shoulder, letting the door fall shut behind me.

Because the universe hates me, my happiness is very short lived.

" _All I wanna do is see you turn into a giant woman_ -"

I pull my phone out of my pocket as I get into the Turtle and catch a glimpse of the name before answering, switching it on to speaker phone and setting it in the cup holder.

"Scotty," I greet.

"I need a solid," he says in a rush. "I dropped my inhaler in the preserve last night."

"Sucks to suck, _mijo_ ," I say, turning on the car.

"Those things are like eighty bucks! I have to be at work in like ten minutes, I don't have time to look for it!"

I make a face as I pull out of the parking lot. "Are you being for real right now? Why didn't you go after practice?"

"Coach held us up. Ares, please!"

I can see the puppy eyes now. Boy's like a goddamned Precious Moments calendar.

"I hate you. I _hate you_. Where did you drop it?"

I should have stayed in Texas. Honestly, my life.

* * *

I'm woman enough to admit that I might have bitten off more than I can chew when agreeing to look for Scott's stupid inhaler an hour and a half after starting. I'm also woman enough to admit that the situation is finally getting to me.

"All these stupid trees look the same!" I shout, picking my way through the underbrush, looking for the areas with the least amount of leaves I can slip on. While comfortable and fashionable most of the time, Converse suck major ass while out gallivanting in the sketchy woods.

Pausing by a tree, I look around, trying to find the damn creek he mentioned. It's just past the creek, he said. You can't miss it, he said.

"This is bullshit!" I clasp my hands together and pop my fingers as I try to figure out what to do next. "Okay. Ares, breathe." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my phone and quickly unlock it. There's a distinct lack of bars I need in the top corner. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me?!"

I shove my phone back into my pocket and run my hands through my hair, sweeping it back out of my face.

"Okay. You're okay," I remind myself, shaking my sleeves down over my hands and balling the ends up in my fists. "It's not like a person was murdered here last night, right?" I laugh to myself.

"What're you doing here?"

The sound that comes out of my mouth is not human. I whirl around, hands flying up to my mouth, and because Converse and wet leaves do not mix, I end up falling hard on my ass against the tree I'm standing next to.

There's a guy in a leather jacket standing not even five yards away and he's looking down at me like I personally ordered the cancellation of the next Beyonce tour.

"What's it to you?" I demand, slowly picking myself up, using the tree as a crutch. "Oh, god, my ass is gonna bruise," I mutter, wiping away the dirt and leaves off my bottom. The guy's face just gets more pinched up, like he's the one that fell on his ass after getting the shit scared out of him.

"This is private property," he declares. I look up at him sharply, my mood plummeting farther down than I thought possible, considering the _fantastic_ afternoon I've been having.

"Well how the hell should I know that? There aren't any signs and all the fucking trees look the same!" I throw my arms up in frustration. "Like, seriously, how the hell do people even know where they're going here? It's by the creek, he says. You'll be alright, he says. HA!" I laugh wildly, gasping for air as what little remains of my composure slowly slips away. The guy's glare doesn't so much as waver as my laugh degenerates into quiet sobs.

"What's wrong with you?" he demands, his voice hard. I wipe my face with my sleeves and glare at him.

"What's wrong with me? I've been out here for like an hour looking for Scott's stupid, tiny inhaler by the stupid, tiny creek that apparently you can't miss." The guy frowns as I go on. "Well, I missed it and now I'm lost and I'm gonna get killed and torn apart and idiot teenagers are gonna come out at night looking for my body and I don't want idiot teenagers endangering themselves to find my body!"

The guy is quiet for a second. Then, "You done?"

I nod once, wiping my face one last time and taking a shuddering breath. "Sorry. Shit, sorry, I didn't mean to blow up." I look up at him, and he doesn't look nearly as annoyed as he did compared to when he first walked up. Makes him look less like a serial killer. "I, uh, I'm lost."

"I noticed," he says dryly.

"I'll give you ten bucks if you can show me the way to the parking lot," I offer hopefully.

He narrows his eyes a fraction and shit. He's just gonna leave me out here for the serial killers and mountain lions.

He lets out a sigh, as if it physically pains him to say his next words. "Come on then."

"Oh shit, really?" I throw my hands up in victory and rush after him before he can get to far. "You're great. I like you. We're friends now," I decide, catching up to him and falling in step next to him. He makes a noise in the back of his throat at that last bit, but I'm too excited in knowing I'm not about to die in the middle of the woods to care. "I'm Ares, by the way. Ares Delgado."

"Ares." He glances down at me, brow arched skeptically.

"It's better than Aracely," I tell him. "Honestly, what were my parents thinking?" He grunts in acknowledgement. It's very neanderthal. "You gotta name?"

He hesitates. "Derek Hale."

"Derek Hale," I repeat, trying to figure out why that sounded familiar. Sonya would know - Oh shit, no, the shot put girl! "Dude, no way, back home, I knew a girl named Haley Derekson. Honest to god, that was her name." He looks down at me, the corners of his mouth slightly pulled down. "She threw shot put on my track team."

"You're not from here." It isn't a question. I shake my head, carefully stepping around a sketchy bush.

"That obvious?" I ask, sniffling again. "I've only just got here in June, but I've been here long enough to know this town has some strange obsession with stick soccer."

"Lacrosse?" And wow, I didn't realize someone could sound so done with the world.

"Yes, that." I glance up at him. "I'm assuming you're from here?"

He nods once but doesn't offer any backstory. I can live with that.

It quickly becomes obvious that this guy isn't exactly the greatest conversationalist. At all. For every question or comment I make, he only offers curt one worded answers. A few minutes of walking in silence, Derek stops at a clearly marked trail.

"Stay on the trail that way," he orders, pointing to the left. "Parking lot's five minutes out."

"Nice." I turn to face Derek, who looks like he wants nothing more than to just disappear into the woods from whence he came. "Seriously though, dude, thank you." I stick my hand out. He stares at it like it has leprosy for a second before taking it in his own, which is huge and warm, 9/10 would shake again. "Next time I get lost in the woods I'll be sure to hit you up, yeah?" I say with a grin, giving him a quick salute as I walk off into the direction he pointed out.

"Hey!" I pause, turn to see him pull something out of his pocket and only just catch it when he tosses it at me. "Tell the idiot teenagers to stay out of the woods." I turn the object over in my hand, frowning. When I look up, Derek's already gone.

I stuff Scott's inhaler in my pocket and hurry to the lot where the Turtle waits.

* * *

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Rough Translations because I'm lazy and a horrible person.

1\. _Mazapan -_ a peanut buttery candy that breaks if you so much as think about touching, but is worth it. De la rosa is the best  
2\. _Chicle -_ gum  
3\. _Qué están haciendo? -_ What are you doing?  
4\. _Que no -_ I said no  
5\. _Están locos_? - Are you crazy?  
6\. _Mijo -_ a term of endearment used for a younger male. _M_ _ija_ would be for a girl  
7\. _Pendejo -_ Stupid/idiot/ etc.  
8\. _Donde estás?_ \- Where are you?  
9\. _Que te dije_? - What did I tell you?


	2. Chapter 2

The Turtle waits patiently right where I had left it when I finally get to the lot. It's only when I see it that the I actually relax, muscles I didn't realize I had tensed loosening. After thoroughly checking the back for any stowaway serial killers - because Aaron and Alicia didn't raise an idiot - I jump in, lock the doors after me, and take a second to just breathe.

"You're okay. You're okay. Everything's fine."

The mantra does little to actually calm my nerves, so I fish my phone out of my pocket, happy to see the bars that had deserted me in my time of need. The message I send goes to **Stiletto**. While waiting for his reply, I turn on the car and let it heat up a bit, which is bullshit. Never had this problem in Texas. I thought California was supposed to be warm and sunny all the time too.

Little shit though he might be, Stiles is a good person to go to when you want to vent, so long as you're prepared to return the favor. Also, after being convinced that I was about to die alone in the woods, I'm not exactly in the mood to be home alone.

 _I'm coming over so you better clean your room and open the front door._  
(A)  
 _Um. Why?_  
(S)  
 _I just spent the last hour and a half being lost in the stupid woods. I don't wanna be home alone_

" _All I wanna do_ -"

I sigh and, like with Scott's call, put it on speaker as I answer it so that I can navigate out of the parking lot and get the hell away from the woods before some monster decides to come out and kill me.

"Why were you in the preserve?" Stiles demands in way of greeting.

"Your stupid friend dropped his inhaler and asked me to go get it." I can practically see the face Stiles is making. "And before you say anything, he was doing the voice, the one with the puppy eyes."

"You need to fight the puppy eyes, Ares," Stiles says dramatically. "He might look innocent, but he knows exactly what he's doing." He pauses. "You alright though?"

"I'll live. I'm still coming over. I'm driving, I'll tell you about it when I get there." I glance at the rear view mirror and label the dark flash of movement among the trees as imagination and paranoia, and step on the gas.

"Alright, see ya in a bit."

"See ya."

* * *

It's by some gift of God that the Sheriff is working when I pull up to the Stilinski home. Not only do I get out of a lecture for being in the woods during a murder investigation, I also get to park in the driveway instead of in the road like common folk. It's the little things in life.

"Stiles!" I call, walking in the front door. "You want me to lock the door?"

"Yeah!" comes the answer from upstairs. I do as he asks and head toward his voice, finding him in his room at his computer desk. He jumps a bit when I walk in, despite knowing that I'm in the house.

"Please don't be looking at porn," I all but beg as I throw myself down into his bed, immediately kicking off my shoes and grabbing a pillow.

"Sure, Ares, make yourself at home," he drawls, gesturing to where I'm sprawled out. I roll my eyes.

" _Chillón_ ," I tease, propping myself up on my elbows. "Do you or do you not want to hear about how I almost died in the woods?"

He makes a face. "See, I feel like you might be exaggerating. If anyone almost died in the woods, it was Scott." I sit up, narrowing my eyes at the boy, who immediately seems to realize his mistake. "I mean, what I meant to say was-"

"What happened?"

Stiles rolls his head to the side. "Look, it wasn't even that big of a deal." I arch a brow at him. "He might have maybe gotten bitbysomething," he finishes in a rush, grimacing.

I blink at him, and because I occasionally dabble in the art of optimism, I ask, "Like, a bug something?"

Stiles hesitates, turning away before answering. "Like a big animal something."

"Are you _kidding me_? Why didn't he tell me?! _Voy a matar a ese pendejo_!"

"Now," Stiles starts, his hands up in a placating manner. "Did it occur to you that he didn't tell you because of the Spanish death threats?" I shoot him an incredulous look. He winces and goes on. "Look, he's fine! He's better than fine, dude, Ares, you should have seen him at practice today, he was amazing!" And just like that my anger is replaced with confusion.

"Amazing? I thought he sucked?" I've endured to many complaining sessions and seen too many summer impromptu practices between the boys to think they had so much of a chance at being starters. Don't get me wrong, I love these dweebs, but athletics just aren't for them.

"He did!" Stiles exclaims, gesturing wildly. "But now he doesn't! You should have seen Jackson's face when Scott caught the ball!"

The name is familiar, and judging by the irrational annoyance I get from hearing it, I have to assume it's someone the boys really don't like. "Jackson's the jerk from school, right? The one dating _la colorada_?"

Stiles makes a face of ultimate heartbreak and I'd feel bad for him were it not the fact he's a child with a borderline creepy crush. "We're not talking about Lydia. We're talking about your cousin. He didn't even stop breathing once." He pauses, his face warping as he thinks. "Which is weird because last night he was hacking up a lung."

Well. That's not something I wanted to hear.

"Stiles! Seriously?"

"What?"

I bring my hands up, palms up, and can't comprehend how he doesn't see what's wrong with that. "There could be something seriously wrong with him!"

Stiles rolls his eyes as if he's heard this all before. I can't say I'd be surprised. "Oh, not you too. Ares, relax. It's not like he went and got bit by a wolf and got infected with lycanthropy."

I frown. "Are we talking clinical or mythical lycanthropy, because there's a difference, ya know."

He drops his head in his hands. "Seriously, not the point. Jus-just tell me what happened in the woods today, alright. That's why you're here, isn't it?"

I scrunch my face and huff, because kid's got a point. "Your subject change works this time, Stilinski. This time."

He shrugs. "Tis both a gift and a curse. Now talk."

* * *

"You _cried_ in front of him?" Stiles looks shocked that such a think could happen. "As in, tears?"

"Yes! God, it was horrible!" I throw myself back into the bed, covering my eyes with my arm. "But he was cool about it, I guess," I continue, sitting back up and dropping my arm. Wonder if that counts as a sit up, i.e. extra exercise for the day. "Guy walked me back to the trail and told me how to get back to the parking lot."

Stiles' jaw drops. "And you just _went_ with him?!" He stares at me as if I had lost my mind when I nod slowly. "Have you gone mental?! I swear, you and Scott are the same when it comes to trusting people." And wow, that one hurt. You don't come from a big city like Laredo and trust everyone like Scott does.

"Dude, chill, it's not like he killed me."

"But what if he did! You can't just pull a Little Red Riding Hood and walk with strangers in the woods where a murder took place."

I lean back and arch a brow at him. "Do... do you remember where you were last night?"

He crosses his arms. "This isn't about me. Look, whatever, did you get this guy's name?"

"I did!" I say brightly, because that's probably the only thing I've done right today. "Derek Hale."

Stiles shoots up, straightening in his chair. "Derek - you said Derek Hale?"

"Why are you saying that like it's something super important?" I ask carefully. "Do you know him?"

"Oh. Ooh hoho, you don't know about the fire, do you?"

"The whole question with a question thing isn't cool, Socrates," I mutter as he twirls his chair back to his computer and pulls up a new tab on his internet among the many wiki articles and reddit threads. I grab his reading chair and drag it behind me as I move next to Stiles. He pulls up an old article from the local newspaper, the headline reading **Family Perishes in Deadly Electrical Fire**.

"The Hale Fire was, like, ten years ago," Stiles explains as I skim through the article.

"Says here six years," I correct absentmindedly, brows furrowing together as start getting an idea of just why Derek Hale was so surprised that I didn't know who he was.

"Whatever." He gives a dismissive wave of his hand. "One night the house just goes up in flames, the entire family trapped inside." He pauses, probably for dramatics. "Well, not all of them. Derek and his sister Laura were at school, extracurricular things, I think."

"They were the only survivors?" I glance over at Stiles. He shakes his head.

"Their uncle Peter Hale managed to get out, but he was burned up really bad. He's been in a coma ever since at the hospital." He leans back in his chair and chews on his thumb nail. "Derek and Laura were in New York last I heard. I wonder what he's doing back."

I shrug. "Saving damsels lost in the woods, I'm guessing."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You wanna order a pizza for dinner?"

"What about your dad?" There's no way he'll let the Sheriff in on pizza.

"I'll make him something else. You can help." He pushes away from the desk to his bed where his phone charges. "I'm feeling pepperoni. You?"

* * *

There's light shining through the bottom of Scott's door, so I give it a quick knock and wait for some sort of confirmation that he's decent before opening the door, leaning against the frame with me shoulder.

"Ares, hey," he greets from his bed. He's got a stupid grin stretched across his face, as if he didn't just send me to my almost death earlier today. "What's up?"

"Stiles said you had a good day at school," I say nonchalantly, checking him over once in search of this bite Stiles had mentioned. Nothing. "Something about lacrosse and showing that Jackson kid what's up?"

"Oh, you should have been there! Coach put me on the goal to build up team morale, but I ended up catching all of them!"

"Build up team morale?" I cross my arms. "What an asshole. Also, didn't you, like, suck before?"

"I know!" he exclaims. "It, it was like I had all the time in the world to catch them! It was- It was… I don't even know!"

I nod. "Right, well it sounds like you had a good day," I drawl, waiting for him to be at his highest before dropping the fact that he almost had me killed. It's my birthright as older cousin to ruin his night over things like this. He nods enthusiastically.

"I got a date."

Well shit. There goes that plan.

"Bullshit, how?" I push off the door frame and walk into the room. "Who is a better question, I think."

His eyes go starry, just like Steven Universe. "Her name is Allison Argent and she just moved here and she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen and she hit a dog-"

"She _hit a dog_?"

"It was an accident! It was raining earlier, she didn't see it," he defends quickly. "So she brought it to the vet and I was there."

"Is the dog okay?"

"The dog is fine, what's important is that I got a date to one of Lydia Martin's parties with the girl of my dreams!" he concludes happily. I can only stare at this idiot before dropping my face into my hands.

" _Ay dios mio_." He doesn't seem to notice. "Whatever, happy for you, _mijo_ ," I say. He beams up at me.

"Did you ever find my inhaler?" he asks suddenly as I make my way to the door. I roll my eyes and pull it out of my front pocket, tossing over to him. He easily catches it with one hand.

"Sweet! Thanks, Ares, I owe you big."

"Whatever, man."

I leave without telling him that it wasn't me that found the inhaler.

When I get back to my room I drop into my bed and just take a second to process what a shit day it's been. "Why does everything suck?" I mutter, pushing my hair out of my face when I sit up and pull my phone out of my pocket and send a quick text to **BFF5L**.

 _Are you awake?  
I have need of you  
_(A)  
 _Get on snapchat  
_ (B)

I pull up the app and pull up **BFF5L** 's conversation. The button at the bottom goes blue and a face engulfs the screen.

"Ares, push the button!" the girl on the screen exclaims. I smile and do as she says, locking the camera on. "Hey!"

"Oh my god, Sonya, I hate everything in this town," I groan, holding the phone out as I drop back into my bed again, throwing an arm over my face. "Literally everything." I drop my arm and look up at her. She has her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun and is sitting in her own bed, wearing an over-sized Nixon Mustangs shirt.

"What happened?" she demands. "Do I need to go through this phone and fuck someone's shit up?"

I laugh. "I don't think my aunt would appreciate you murdering my cousin."

"Oh my god, what'd the kid do this time?"

"Do not even get me started on what he and Stiles have put me through today." I shake my head and Sonya leans in eagerly. I give her the main points of what happened last night with the body and having to pick Scott up. When I get to the part about Derek Hale, she holds her hand up.

"Okay, hold on, honey, tell me about the guy in the woods. Was he hot?" I look at her flatly and she shakes her head. "Oh, come on, you aren't blind."

I roll my eyes. "He was aesthetically pleasing, in a serial killer kinda way, I guess. But that's not the point! The point is I'm in emotional distress and I need comfort and distraction."

"Distraction?" Sonya scrunches her face up as she thinks. "Did I tell you about how Warren watched _Homeward Bound_ drunk last weekend and started crying?"

Warren Nguyen, our idiot best friend that can't hold his alcohol if his life depended on it. Like Sonya, he's been my best friend since freshman year of high school.

"Oh my god, he would," I cackle. By the time we finish talking about everyone back home, it's all I can do to keep from crying. "God, I miss you guys. Everything here sucks," I say, wiping at my eyes. "I mean, I hang out with sixteen year olds. How much more pathetic can my life get?"

Sonya sighs. "It'll get better. Once you go back to school, you'll meet cool people and forget all about us losers here," she says brightly. "Maybe we can go see you this summer! We can go see the beach!"

"There's no beach here," I say. "The sentiment is nice though."

* * *

I can't say I planned on being back in the preserve so soon after the incident yesterday. But the thing about promising someone ten dollars to get you out of the woods alive is that you should probably make good on it, and as far as I know, Derek Hale is squatting somewhere in the woods. Best guess?

Creepy burned down house in the middle of the woods.

 _If I don't text back in an hour tell your dad I'm dead in the woods_

Locking my phone and shoving it in my pocket, I throw open my car door. After taking a second to make sure something worthy of a nosleep isn't going to jump out and eat my soul, I reach back into the Turtle and grab my loot.

"What are you doing here?"

" _Hijo de tu_ -!" I whirl around and there stands Derek Hale in all his serial killer glory, looking just as defensive and annoyed as yesterday, if not more so. "Dude! Can you not?!" I demand. "Lord."

"Why are you here?" he all but growls. I arch an unimpressed brow at him. The fact he's trying makes the whole threatening serial killer look kinda fall flat.

"I owe you ten bucks for not leaving me to die yesterday," I tell him. His face warps in confusion as I go on, turning to grab the goods as I do. "I don't have cash though and I didn't feel like dealing with the ATM, so I got you food, because really, who's gonna say no to food?" I turn and hold out a bag and large drink for him. He stares at them as if they're alien, complete with green skin and tiny antennas, before reaching out and grabbing them. "Also I didn't know what you wanted to drink, so I got a Coke and Dr Pepper and figured I'd let you pick," I say, grabbing my own bag and drink and hip checking the door shut. "Is the porch safe to eat on?"

His frown is more so confused than annoyed as he nods and turns to lead the way. "You didn't have to," he says, and he doesn't even sound overly negative. Points for me.

"Probably shouldn't have either," I say, and he looks back at me sharply. "No, idiot, I meant I shouldn't have gotten you junk," I correct before he can get his feelings hurt. "Next time I'll get you real food. I bet all you eat is junk if you're squatting here." I gesture with my drink as I climb the steps after him. He stands awkwardly for a second before mirroring me as I gracelessly plop onto the porch, crossing my legs. "Why are you squatting here anyway?"

For a second I think I asked the wrong question before he answers. "It's home."

"Oh." I watch as he sets the bag of food in front of him and doesn't look up at me. "Right. Well, I got you, like, four McDoubles because you look like you can smash those and not get fat. There's an apple pie in there too. Coke or Dr Pepper?"

"Coke."

"Sweet." I grab the drink in front of him and trade it for my own. "So, you watch any good shows?"

Just as with yesterday, Derek lets me do most of the talking, and since he does nothing to stop me, he gets the full history of _Steven Universe_.

"So yeah. Sentient lesbian space rocks raising a half human space rock child is currently my favorite show," I finish, grabbing several fries and dropping them in my mouth. Derek arches a brow.

"And this is a kid's show?"

"Hey, _Gargoyles_ was a kid's show too, and that shit got dark sometimes." I shrug. "Besides, it's got good representation of female characters and body types and all that stuff social justice warriors on tumblr cry about." He makes a choked noise, like he's trying to hold in a laugh. "You should watch it. Brighten up the gloom and doom vibe you got goin' on," I say, waving a fry around before biting it in half.

He looks like he wants to say something, but is cut off by a distraught Amethyst.

" _Nooo mi tortaaa_!"

My hand snaps to my pocket and I glance up at Derek, who just raises both brows. "Whoops?" I pull the phone out of my pocket and swipe it on as it screams again.

 **Stiletto (2 new messages)**

 _Your cousin got bit by a wolf_  
 _Also are you alive?_

"Stiles," I mutter, shooting off a quick answer.

 _Bullshit Scott got bit by a wolf, and yeah, I live_

I glance at the time and let my head fall back. "Well, I gotta ditch out," I glance up at Derek. His expression is neutral, and shit, how are you supposed to get a reading on this guy? "I have work in, like, thirty minutes," I explain, dropping my trash in my bag. "You want me to take your trash? Keep the planet green and all that jazz." I say with a twirl of my finger. He snorts, but gathers his trash and stands, holding a hand down for me. I grin and take it, let him pull me up. "Aw, look at you, such a civilized serial killer."

"Serial killer?" And his brows do this thing, like he's questioning my sanity.

"You're not exactly Mr. Sunshine, buddy," I drawl, patting his arm before grabbing his bag and hopping down the stairs. "I'll see ya 'round, bro. Bring you real food next time," I call over to him as I pull open my car door.

"Ares."

"Hey! You remembered!" I exclaim, dropping the trash in the footwell of the passenger side before straightening to look up at him. He's got his arms crossed, like he didn't just spend the past hour learning about gay space rocks. We're gonna have to work on that if I plan on having him around as official nonteenage friend.

"You shouldn't come back into the woods," he says. He says it in a way that makes it sound like there's some big secret behind it, and honestly, between this guy and Stiles with his wolf bite theories, next thing I know it's gonna be _The_ _Howling: Blood in Beacon Hills._

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, well, I shouldn't eat raw cookie dough either. What're you gonna do?" I pause. "If it makes you feel any better, I will definitely not be out here during the full moon tomorrow night. Rewatched _Dog Soldiers_ the other night. Can't say I'm in the mood of getting mauled to death by a mythical creature, ya know?"

His brow furrows a bit at the mention of full moon, but he doesn't answer, so it's safe to say that I win this round.

* * *

I get about five seconds of down time after leaving Deaton's and getting to my car before it all goes to hell due to one Stiles Stilinski.

 _Your cousin is a werewolf_

I stare down at the text in confusion before realizing this must have something to do with that text he sent me yesterday about Scotty getting bit by the wolf. I sigh, snapping on my seat belt and pressing call. It rings twice.

"Scott's a werewolf," Stiles says upon answering. "Like, an honest to god fangs and claws werewolf and he won't listen to me!" I don't answer, just take a second to process what the hell this kid just spewed and start the car.

"Stiles. _Mijo_. How much adderall did you take today?"

"This isn't about me!" And shit, his voice cracked. I drop my hands from the wheel, frowning

"Okay, okay, calm down, dude," I tell him, rubbing my face. "Is your dad home? Do you want me to come over?"

"What? No! Just- Gah, fine, come over," and lord, he sounds so done with life right now. I can practically hear him rubbing his head like he does when he's stressed.

"Hey, it's okay, Stiles," I assure him, forcing my voice to stay calm, neutral. "You can tell me when I get there, okay?"

Stiles takes a breath. "Alright, fine. Just hurry."

If I go a good ten over the limit the entire time, well, at least the Sheriff didn't catch me. Stiles waits at the front door when I arrive, throwing it open and bouncing on his heels nervously.

"Dude, are you okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine. Peachy. It's Scott I'm worried about," he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling me after him to his room. I nod slowly.

"Right. Because he's a werewolf."

"He is!" Stiles exclaims. "And he has that stupid date tonight."

"What's wrong with his date?" I demand. "It's good for him. He'll stop whining about dying alone because girls don't look at him."

Stiles stops short at his door and I barely catch myself from running him down. The look he gives me makes it clear how little he thinks of me right now.

"Ares. Tonight is the full moon."

He pushes open his door. I follow him in, staring with wide eyes the papers thrown around his room. On his bed, desk, floor, one even made it to his bookshelf.

"Oh, _mijo_." I stoop down, grab one of the papers. It's a wiki article over some Greek myth. "You're serious?"

"I don't think I've been more serious about anything. Look at me and say I'm kidding," he snaps. I look up at him. His eyes are panicked.

"Shit." I glance around the room. "Okay, lay it on me," I tell him as I go about picking up the papers.

Let it be known that Stiles Stilinski knows how to lay out an argument. While I can't say I'm totally down for what he's saying, he obviously believes it, and I'm not one to let delusional teenagers run free into the world. Especially when they might try to shoot my little cousin with a silver bullet.

"Are you kidding me?" I whine, dropping my face into my hands and just staying there, lamenting the shitfest my life was no doubt about to become.

* * *

 **If you liked, be sure to drop a review! ( ´ ▽ ` )b**

 _I really like these little emoji things, so I'd like to apologize in advance for how many you're going to end up seeing.  
_

Translations

1\. _Chillón -_ Crybaby  
2\. _Voy a matar a ese pendejo -_ I'm going to kill that idiot!  
3\. _la colorada -_ The red head  
4\. _Ay dios mio -_ Oh my god  
5\. _Hijo de tu_ \- - Son of a- (literally son of your-. It leads to mean things.)


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles, sweet summer child that he is, wants to hold something of an intervention for Scott. Scott, who is completely in love with this Allison girl and will probably kill us both if we try to stop him from going to this party with her, werewolf or not.

My life. Honestly.

"You really think this is going to work out?" I ask from where I sit cross-legged on Stiles' bed. He doesn't answer, ignoring me in favor of whatever wiki article he managed to dig out of the depths of the internet. "I mean, if he is what you say he is-"

"Ares, trust me, I know what I saw. Scott's different now. He's a werewolf."

I sigh, rubbing my face. He's really set on this, isn't he? Maybe it's best to let him come to realize for himself how completely wrong he is on his own.

"I didn't say he wasn't. I'm just asking what makes you think asking nicely is going to stop him from going to that party?"

Stiles stills, turning to face me in his chair. His face just drops and he opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off by a quick rapping at the door. We both jump, and Stiles glances over at me before getting up, straightening his shirt and shaking out his hands before grabbing the door knob and jerking it open.

Scotty stands there with a wide smile, and if he had a tail it'd be invisible with how fast it wagged. Stiles lets out a sigh of relief.

"Get in! You gotta see this." He goes straight for his chair again, grabbing the papers I had stacked up at his desk.

Scott follows him in, noticing me for the first time. "Ares, what're you doing here?" he asks, his smile wavering in confusion.

"Moral support," I say dryly. "Not really sure for who at this point, but it's here."

Stiles ignores our exchange and barrels on as if we hadn't spoken. "I've been up all night, reading websites, books, all this."

Scott glances back at me. I just shrug, not wanting to get into it just yet. Let's see how they handle it in their own first. Maybe they don't even need adult supervision. "How much Adderall have you had today?"

"That's exactly what I asked!" I exclaim. Stiles throws me a dark look before going on.

"A lot? Doesn't matter, listen."

Scott drops his bag on the bed before plopping down next to me. "Is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?"

"No, they're still questioning people." Stiles glances over at me. "Even Derek Hale."

I let my head drop into my hands. "Are you kidding me?" I demand. "When did that happen?"

Scott looks between us in confusion. "Who's Derek Hale?" I pick up my head to see Stiles frowning at Scott.

"Derek Hale, bro, he's only a few years older than us. His family died in a fire, like, ten years ago."

"Six," I correct.

"How do you know him?" Scott demands, looking almost scandalized that I, his poor older cousin, would have some sort of life outside of work. I mean, he isn't exactly wrong, but it still hurts, ya know?

"I met him in the woods while looking for your stupid inhaler." Scotty seems to accept that, nodding and turning back to Stiles, who turns out to be a traitor of the traitorous sort.

"She got lost," Stiles supplies unhelpfully.

"Ares!" Scott grabs my arm, and aw, he cares.

"I'm fine," I snap, glaring at Stiles; he just shrugs. "Derek found me and showed me back to the parking lot. I bought him food yesterday. He's cool. Thinking about making him real food sometime though." Scott narrows his eyes at me. "What? He's squatting in a burnt up house in the middle of the woods, he needs real food!"

"Can we please get back to the point?" Stiles exclaims. He looks pointedly at Scott. "Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore." Scott does an excellent impression of a confused puppy, and suddenly the whole werewolf thing becomes more likely. "The wolf, the bite in the woods! I've been doing research. Do you even know why a wolf howls?" he demands, jumping up.

"Should I?"

"It's a signal," Stiles explains. "When a wolf howls, it's signal to the rest of the pack, so if you heard a wolf howling, that means others coulda been near by, maybe a whole pack of them."

"A whole pack of wolves?" Scott asks in shock.

"No. Werewolves."

There. He said it. It's done. It's out there. I watch in anticipation for Scott's reaction.

"Are you seriously wasting my time for this?" Scott demands, finally letting go of my arm and jumping up.

"Okay, _mijo,_ don't get mad," I say uncrossing my legs at the tint of anger in his words. "Stiles is just worried and looking out for you, misguided as it might be." This earns me glares from both boys, and really with my luck I should have know this thing would turn back on me.

"Ares!" They cry out in unison and I'm kinda impressed. I bring my hands up in defense.

"Stiles, werewolf is a little out there." He huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. "Scotty, if there _is_ something going on because you went and got _bit_ by something and _didn't tell me_ -" his eyes go wide at that and he looks away - "then we need to make sure it isn't something dangerous to you and potentially those around you. Rabies are a thing, you know."

"I do not have rabies!" he snaps.

Stiles nods. "You're right, because you're a werewolf now!" I drop my face in my hands for a second before I push my hair out of my face. This is going just fantastic.

"Why are you being like this? You know I'm picking up Allison in, like, an hour," Scott accuses, reaching for his bag. Stiles stops him, putting hand on his shoulder.

"I saw you on the field today, Scott. What you did wasn't just amazing, it was impossible."

Scott looks down. "Yeah, so I made good shot."

"No, Scott, you made an incredible shot!" Stiles grabs the bag out of Scott's hands and slams it back into the bed.

"Stiles," I warn. Antagonizing the possibly rabid werewolf boy is not exactly the best way to handle these things. He ignores me and goes on.

"The way you moved, your speed, your _reflexes_? People just can't suddenly do that overnight!" He takes a breath. "And-and there's the vision, the senses, don't even think I don't notice you don't need your inhaler anymore!"

That one. That one is news to me. "Are you kidding me?" I mutter.

"Okay! I can't think about this right now," Scott says. "We'll talk about this tomorrow."

" _Tomorrow_?" Stiles demands. "No, Scott, tonight is the full moon! Don't you get it?"

"What are you trying to do?!" Scott finally exclaims, and at this point I almost feel bad for wishing I had some pop-corn. Maybe a cherry slushie. This is some prime _novela_ shit unfolding in front of me. "I just made first line, I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect. Why are you trying to ruin it for me?!"

Stiles, who had made it back to his chair, looks up with sincere eyes. "I'm trying to help. You're cursed, Scott." And it's like it hurts him to admit it. "And the full moon isn't just when you'll change, it'll also be when your blood lust will be at it's peak."

I can only glare at Stiles and he winces when he notices it. "Why do you have to say these things?"

"It's true!"

"What!" Scott exclaims. "No, you two are being stupid and weird. I have to go and get ready."

I take offense to that. I'm not the one convinced he's a werewolf. I'm the one trying to make sure they don't do something stupid like van surf.

"No, Scott, you can't go on that date!" Stiles grabs the bag from the bed, snatching Scott's phone from a pocket.

"What're you doing?!" And shit. I've heard that tone of voice enough times to know nothing good comes from it.

"I'm cancelling that date," Stiles answers.

Scott explodes.

"No, give it to me!" he snarls in a very un-Scott manner, grabbing the front of Stiles shirt and slamming him into the wall.

"SCOTT!"

I duck under the arm holding Stiles to the wall, force myself between the boys. It hardly seems to phase Scott as he just pulls back his fist. I hold my breath, but the hit never comes. Instead, he slams his hand into the Stiles' chair, knocking it over. He drops his hand from Stiles chest, glaring down at the chair as he breathes deep.

He looks up at us, eyes going wide in realization of what he just did. Looks at how I have my arms out, bracketing Stiles behind me, who's got a bruising grip on one of them.

"I'm… I'm sorry." He steps back. "I, uh, I gotta go. Get ready." He backs away, grabbing his bag as he goes. "I'm sorry."

It isn't until he's gone that I start breathing again. Stiles lets go of my arm, sliding out from behind me. "Ares? You okay?"

I nod once, lean back against the wall, trying to keep my breathing under control as he picks up his chair. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. Scott might have his whiny tantrums when I don't drive him somewhere or jack a sweatshirt, but he's never done anything violent. Not my baby cousin.

"Oh, shit."

I look over at him. He turns the chair so the back faces me.

"You gotta be kidding me."

There's three long slashes on the back.

* * *

Melissa is home when I finally get there. I find her in the kitchen, standing over a pot of something on the stove.

"Hey, _tia_ ," I greet, keeping my voice light as to not betray the fact that her kid is a fuckin' Lon Chaney Jr. character. Because Stiles was fucking right. Scott's a werewolf. Or something like that. I'm trying not to think to much about it. She looks up in surprise, a smile spreading out when she realizes I'm not a serial killer.

Like that guy I had lunch with in the middle of the woods. God. My life.

"Ares, hey. What's up?"

Oh, nothing, just recovering from the fact that your kid is a werewolf. God. We're gonna have to tell her that her kid is a mythical creature.

"Just came back from Stiles'." She arches a brow. "No one was home," I say in way of explanation. "Do you need any help?"

She waves a hand to the bags of groceries on the counter. "Can you put those away for me, please?" I nod and set out to do as she had asked. We stay in silence for a moment before, "Have you heard from your dad lately?"

I still, setting the cans in my hands down for a second before turning to put them away in the pantry. "I, uh. Not in a while," I admit. "It's fine, he's busy."

"Ares…"

" _Tia_." I look over at her. "It's cool. Really. Besides, Alicia has been blowing up my snapchat lately and Aaron keeps sending me Candy Crush invites on facebook because he hates me." The fact I've told him to stop just fuels his actions, the jerk. "God, don't even get me started on Warren and Sonya." I roll my eyes in remembrance of the group texts from my best friends. She doesn't look convinced, but doesn't push any farther. "So, Scotty's got a big date."

"He does," Melissa says brightly before turning off the stove. "Which reminds me, I need to go talk to him, remind him to put gas in the car after." I smile weakly as she hurries out of the kitchen.

It helps to not think about the fact that he might end up eating his date tonight. And not in the way she would enjoy.

* * *

When everything goes to hell, it goes to the inner most circle.

"Scott?" Stiles' voice calls from out in the hallway, followed by several quick knocks. I frown down at Warren and Sonya on my computer screen, having been in the middle of a group video chat with them.

"Is that one of the sixteen year olds?" Warren asks as Stiles goes on.

"Let me in, I can help!"

"Shit," I mutter, images of too much body hair and teeth and claws filling my mind's eye. "Sorry, guys, I gotta check this out."

"You're leaving us?!" Sonya demands, never one to take be dropped for no good reason lightly.

"Come back!" Warren cries as I end my call, closing my laptop and jumping out of my bed.

"Stiles?" I call out, poking my head out into the hallway to see him leaning in close to Scott's door. He looks over, eyes wide, and waves frantically. "Fuck," I groan, shuffling over, keeping my arms crossed over my chest because come on, I wasn't planning on going out, I'm not wearing a bra. I reach Stiles in time to hear Scott on the other side of the door. "Is this about the werewolf thing?" I ask. He nods frantically as Scott cries out from inside his room.

"You gotta find Allison!"

I sigh. "Alright, I'll bite. You're turning into a fuckin' Super Saiyan and you're worried about your little girlfriend?" I demand incredulously. "I am in awe of your priorities, _mijo_."

Stiles shoots me a look before answering. "She's fine, I saw her get a ride from the party, she's totally fine, alright?"

"Probably doing better than you right now," I mutter, deciding I need to meet this girl to figure out what the seven hells she's done to my little cousin. Love spell of some sort. Harry Potter Unforgivable level shit. Bottom line: _brujería_.

"No, I think I know who did this!" Stiles and I exchange looks as he goes on. "There was this guy there, he was hanging in the back. Leather jacket, dark hair, kinda pale."

"Congratulations on narrowing that down to literally every male hero in paranormal romance novels," I drawl. "Care to be more specific?"

"Shit, no, I think I know who he's talking about," Stiles says quietly. "Derek Hale was there, I saw him."

And just like that any chances of me having a nonteenage friend here are gone forever.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"It was him!" Scott declares. "He did it! He's the werewolf, I could tell. He's the one who bit me, he's the one who killed the girl in the woods!"

Stiles stills, looking over at me before saying, "Scott. Derek's the one who drove Allison from the party."

I turn my head slowly to look at Stiles, unsure of how to convey how absolutely _stupid_ he's being right now. "Are you fucking _kidding me_?! Why would you tell him that!" The urge to get in my car and just go back to Texas is so strong right now.

The door slams shut, locking, and Stiles hits it. "Scott?! Shit, he's gonna do something stupid-Scott!"

"Seriously, my fuckin' life," I mutter, stalking to my room. "I just wanted to finally talk to Sonya and Warren. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Ares! Where are you-we have to do something!" Stiles exclaims, running into my room after me.

"What do you think I'm doing?" I snap, pulling on a pair of pj bottoms over my night shorts and shoving my feet into my slipper boots before grabbing my hoodie off my trunk and keys off my nightstand. "Do you know where this Allison girl lives?" I demand, pulling on my hoodie.

"No, but I can find out," Stiles answers as he follows me out of the room and down the stairs. I knew there was a reason I liked this kid, idiot though he's being tonight.

"Good. Go and make sure she's fine." I shake my head. "I don't think Derek actually did the killing, but it doesn't hurt to make sure, right?"

Stiles frowns. "You don't? Why not?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Stiles is silent for a second. Any longer and I would have been worried. "What are you going to do?"

I shake my head. "Something stupid, most likely. Scotty's gonna go looking for Derek. I need to find my idiot cousin before he gets hurt."

* * *

There's a car in the preserve parking lot when I get there, a black Camaro parked right in front of the "Do not enter after dark unless you want to die a horrible death" sign that everyone ignores.

"Shit," I mutter, throwing the Turtle in park and killing the engine. "Scott!" I shout as I jump out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me. "Scotty!" I dig my phone out of my pocket; switch on the flashlight, and head into the woods.

It doesn't take long for the dew to soak through my slippers and the bottom of my pants. To make matters worse, the temperature just seems to drop.

" _Noooo, mi tortaaa!_ "

I frown down at my phone, pull up the messages. Doing so shuts off the flashlight app, leaving me in a darkness I'm not entirely happy about.

 **Stiletto (1 new message)**

 _Allison's at home. She's fine_

"Oh thank fuck," I sigh, throwing my head back. "Okay then. Now I just needa find Scotty." Movement out the corner of my eye catches my attention. "Scott?" I call, but it comes out too quiet. I narrow my eyes, only for them to widen when I realize it isn't just one figure, but three. "Wha-"

Something grabs the back of my hoodie, yanking me behind a tree, out of sight of the figures. A hand clamps down over my mouth before I have a chance to scream.

"Ares, stop!" a familiar voice growls as I try to pry the hand away. I look up in shock, and lo and behold, Derek Hale, looking absolutely livid, but also absolutely human. Not taking his hand away, he leans over, glaring over the edge of the tree where the trio of figures had stood. A tense second passes before he drops his hand and turns his glare toward me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he demands, stepping entirely too close into my bubble.

"I'm looking for Scott, you asshole," I hiss up at him, shoving him back. "Apparently he's some sort of fucking werewolf now and you're the one who bit him?" I throw my hands up. "What the hell, I thought you were cool! Where's my little cousin?"

He blinks before the glare returns. "What, his little friend tell you he's a wolf now?" And wow, he's taking the whole being outed of the mythical closet pretty well, I think.

"Stiles is a fucking genius, I will fight you," I snap, because I can call my boys idiots and stupid all I want. This asshole can't. "Don't talk shit on him. Is this shit true or not?" I demand. At this point, I just want an honest answer. I want to know what to do to help Scott. Derek's glare doesn't so much as change as he looks away for a second.

"Scott's fine, I sent him home. He would have killed that girl."

A breath I didn't realize I was holding in comes rushing out. "Shit. Shitshitshit, so he's a werewolf. That's just fucking fantastic." I rub my face with my hands and tug at my frizzing hair before what he actually said hits. " _Kill her?_ Please, the kid can barely watch pirated movies without feeling bad, you think he can actually hurt someone on purpose?" I throw my arms up in frustration. "Jesus Christ, the only reason he came out here is because he thought you went and killed that girl they found out here!" He steps back as if struck, a range of emotions flashing too fast for me to even name them. I narrow my eyes at him, because shit, this guy's a suspect in a murder case and here I am, conversing with him in the middle of the night in the middle of dark woods. Idiot teenagers just might end up searching for my body after all.

"You didn't, right? Derek?"

He doesn't answer, instead grabs my wrist and pulls me after him at a speed not made for pj pants and slippers, and for a second panic rises in my throat. "Come on, you need to get out of here before they come back."

"Who comes back?" I demand as I try to pull free. "Who were those guys?"

"Hunters."

"Hunt… you mean like from fucking _Supernatural_?" He doesn't offer an explanation. "Are you kidding me right now?! There are honest to god people that are going to actively hunt my little cousin?!" Derek continues to ignore me. "Dude, seriously, will you just-" I slip, barely catching myself so that he wouldn't rip my arm out of socket. "Derek-"

"What?" he growls, not breaking his stride.

"Will you just fucking slow down!?"

He stops short, looking back at me. I yank my wrist free and hold it to my chest. "You want me to slow down? When there are people out here that just might kill you for being around me, for being around Scott?"

I stare up at him in horror. "What? No-"

"Then let's go." He reaches for my arm, but I step back, almost falling in the process.

"I am literally in my _pajamas_ , Derek!" His gaze drops to my legs, to my slippers. "I can't keep up with you! Will you stop being such a hard ass and just slow down? Please?"

He doesn't say anything, just turns on his heels. For a second, I'm convinced he's going to leave, until he crouches.

"Come one then," he snaps, holding his arms out to his sides.

I can only stare down at him in shock. "We're seriously going to pull a _Twilight_?"

"Ares, I will fucking leave you here, hunters or not."

"I wasn't complaining," I add quickly, because I can't say I'm too keen on the idea of explaining to a bunch of testosterone fueled trigger happy guys I'm looking for my little cousin out here. "God, okay." And suddenly those diets in high school are paying off. "How pissed would you get if I start singing 'A Whole New World'?" I ask as he straightens and sets off at a pace I could have in no way kept up with.

"I can still drop you," he threatens, but there isn't nearly as much heat in his voice as he did when I made the _Twilight_ comment.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't." I pause, readjusting my hold around Derek's neck so I'm not choking him out. "So werewolves are a thing."

Jerk doesn't even have the decency to answer me, but his silence is all the answer I need.

"And Scotty's one now." It puts a bad taste in my mouth. " _Dios mio_ , Scott's a werewolf." I drop my head onto my arm with a mock sob. "My fucking life. Leave one shitfest only to fall into another." I pick my head up. "So what? Stiles and I gonna have to lock him in a tower a la _Rapunzel_?"

"If he doesn't want to go around killing everyone he knows next full moon, he's going to need me to help him keep him in control," Derek answers roughly. "He needs to learn that the Bite isn't bad, how to use it to his advantage now." I stare at the back of Derek's head before grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back. "What the hell?!" he exclaims, but points to him for not dropping me.

"Did you fucking bite him?!" I demand, not letting go of his hair.

"I'm going to drop you if you don't let go of my fucking hair!"

"Then get ready for a bald spot, Fido. Answer the question!" I snap, wrapping my free arm around his neck and my legs around his waist.

"No! Alright, it wasn't me."

I narrow my eyes at him, not loosening my grip, and he retaliates with a glare. "How do I know you're not lying?"

He lets out an annoyed growl. "Only an Alpha's bite can turn a human. I'm not an Alpha."

"Refer to my last question."

"I swear to god, I'm going to rip out your lungs," he growls. "Alphas have red eyes."

And holy shit, his eyes are blue. Neon blue, blue like a fucking anime character, tragic backstory and all. I let him go and he just stands still, seething. "Sorry," I say, smoothing his hair back into place, with little effect. "You made it sound like it was you."

"Whatever," he mutters, starting off again. "Where the hell did you learn that?"

"My dude, I'm the youngest of three, and the other two are freakishly overprotective sometimes. Self defense classes happened."

He grunts in acknowledgement, and I like to believe he made up his mind not to test that tidbit of information.

It's by some miracle of God that we finally make it to the parking lot alive. Derek, asshole that he is, drops me and I barely manage to not fall on my ass.

"So what now?" I ask, grabbing his shoulder for balance as I step over the rope fence. "Scotty gonna take werewolf classes with you now?"

"If he wants to control the wolf, then yes."

The wolf. Jesus, it's like those paranormal romance novels Warren used to make us read in high school. I shake my head. "And I feel like you're gonna be a tough love kinda teacher. Throw him in the deep end and all that jazz." He doesn't say anything. "Right, okay then. Phone." I hold my hand out. He stares down at it in confusion. " _Dame tu teléfono_ ," I order.

"Why?" he demands, but digs it out of his pocket.

"I'm giving you my number. So you can call or text or send smoke signals when he does something stupid. Progress reports, so to speak," I say, putting in my number in his phone and saving it before shooting a text to myself. "Also, I stole yours because Google only answers so many of my questions." I smile up at him brightly, holding his phone out to him. "It'll be like Ask Jeeves, but with werewolves."

He narrows his eyes. "You shouldn't get involved."

I shrug. "My little cousin is a werewolf. The first person close to my age that isn't a total idiot is also a werewolf. That's you, by the way." His brows shoot up. "Besides, what else am I gonna do here? Watch the lacrosse games?" I make a face. "I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Friday night football."

He shakes his head. "Go home, Ares."

He doesn't have to tell me twice.

* * *

 **Don't forget to drop a review and fave/follow if you like what you're reading! Since someone asked earlier for Ares' age, she is nineteen. It's mentioned in the first chapter, but it was pretty easy to miss.**

 **(҂⌣̀_⌣́) today's emoji is brought to you by Ares' near constant expression from now on.  
**

Translations

1. _Tia_ \- Aunt  
2\. _brujería -_ witchcraft  
 _3\. Dame tu teléfono -_ Give me your phone


	4. Chapter 4

As it turns out, Derek doesn't appreciated getting text bombed with questions beginning with "yo bro" and shitty tumblr posts. Aside from the occasional threat of de-lunging me, he ignores them, not texting back unless it's something of a legit question. Such as:

 _So do we have to do something about Scotty the rest of the full moon nights or nah?_  
(A)  
 _The first night is the only bad night_  
(D)  
 _Sweet, good to know._

There are also the ones he secretly loves but has a rep to uphold, therefore acts like he doesn't like them. Behold:

 _Did you see that pic I sent you?_  
(A)  
 _Stop texting me_  
(D)  
 _The cat had blue glowy eyes! He looked just like you!_  
(A)  
 _I'm going to rip out your lungs_  
(D)  
 _Great to know. So I'm making banana nut muffins tonight, you want me to bring you some tomorrow?_  
 _Derek._  
 _Derek._  
 _Deeeeerrrrrreeeeek_  
 _I'm going to keep texting you until you answer._  
 _Larry Talbot_  
 _Remus Lupin_  
 _Fenrir Greyback_  
 _Fangface_  
 _I literally have the entirety of google at my disposal, don't think I won't use it_  
 _Don't make me start calling you Twilight characters_  
 _Jacob Black_  
 _I'm going to give Stiles your number._  
(A)  
 _FINE BRING YOUR STUPID MUFFINS_  
(D)

I snort, dropping my phone on the bed next to me and throwing myself back into my pillows. What a drama queen. There's a short knock and I barely have time to sit up before the door is thrown open and Scott tumbles in, looking as pathetic as a teenage werewolf can. I arch a brow at him.

"Sure, _mijo_ , come on in," I drawl as Scott faceplants into my bed. He doesn't move for a second, but when he does, he groans, grabbing my pillow and hugging it to him as flops over on his back. " _Estás bien_?" I ask, not really caring for the answer. He and Stiles have caused me too much stress for me to have much sympathy for either of them right now.

"My life is over," he whines.

"It will be if you don't explain why you're in here."

He throws me a glare without much heat. "Ares, this is serious! You remember those hunters from after the party?"

"Oh, you mean that one time you ran into the woods looking for Derek?" I drawl. "Yes, yes I do. I had to throw out my slippers because I couldn't get all the _espinas_ out. You owe me, buddy."

"This isn't about your dumb slippers," he says. "Allison's dad is going to kill me!"

I crinkle my nose at him. "I know. That's what fathers of teen girls do to their new boyfriends." I pause, thinking of that when Aaron almost went on a murderous rampage at that idiot Eliot last year. Not that I opposed, but I'd rather my brother not go to jail for murder. "At least she doesn't have an older brother."

"No, that's not what I mean! Her dad was the _hunter_!" He brings the pillow up to his face and does a fine impression of someone trying to smother himself. I blink and take a second to let the words register. Then, because the universe can't hate Scott that much, I feel the need for a confirmation on what I just heard.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding you?" Scott sits up, looking absolutely miserable. "You know what else sucks?"

"You ability to look for the silver lining? ...Wait, no, stay away from silver," I add quickly. It's unneeded, as Scott barrels on as if I didn't even speak.

"We heard the Sheriff at school today. They're setting up a curfew."

I frown, lean forward a bit as I drop my elbows on my knees. "What? Why? Also, does this affect me?"

"The dead girl in the woods." He huffs and ignores the last question I tacked on. "They're setting up a curfew for all of us when the guy that did it is out there running around like nothing!"

"Did you think that maybe, just hear me out here, it's because there's a murderer out on the loose that there's gonna be a curfew?" I ask dryly. He looks up at me with eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"I'm talking about Derek!" My hand automatically goes for my phone. If Scott notices, he doesn't say anything. "It's all his fault!"

I nod slowly. "Right. His fault you didn't kill your little girlfriend Friday. I totally understand why you'd be mad. Though, maybe, for your next murder, don't pick the hunter's daughter?"

"I'm serious! He's the other wolf!"

"I know he's the other wolf, _tonto_ ," I snap, flicking him in the forehead. He huffs, slapping my hand away. "He didn't exactly make the most convincing human the other night."

Scott's eyes go wide in horror. "You were with him?" And shit, I might not have actually mentioned that part of my little adventure when out looking for him the other night. "Ares, he's dangerous!"

"So dangerous he gave me a piggy back ride through the forest?"

"He what?"

I sigh, shaking my head. "Scott, Derek isn't the one who bit you. He told me himself."

"You believed him?" He sounds so much like Stiles right now it's actually kinda terrifying. We should limit the amount of time they spend together.

"I pride myself for my ability to weed out the chill guys from the idiots," I say lightly. "Look, he might be kind of a hard ass, but he didn't kill anyone."

Scott glares at the wall, his chest heaving as he tries to get control of his anger. "I don't want you hanging out with him."

I snort my laughter. "Right, I'll keep that in mind. You sound like Aaron, dude. You think maybe you're overreacting?"

"He turned me into a werewolf!"

I drop my face into my hands. "It wasn't him, _burro cabezon_!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Then don't act like one!" I snap. We sit in a tense silence for a moment before I take a breath. "Scott, I don't need you to tell me what to do right now, okay? I had enough of that back home." He at least has the since to look a little guilty, which, good. "What you need to worry about right now is learning how to keep your head together so you don't end up eating someone during a game." He ducks his head. I narrow my eyes at him. " _Qué pasó_?"

Scott mutters something incoherently, glancing up with those stupid wide puppy eyes.

"Dude, don't mumble."

"I almost hurt Stiles!" he exclaims.

"You what?!"

"It was an accident!" He runs his hands through his hair. "Jackson was being such an asshole during practice and I got mad-"

"Is the idiot still alive?"

"Jackson? Yeah."

I lean back. "Well, there's that at least. No murder charges for your mom to worry about." I pause, realization sinking in. "Oh, shit, dude, we still need to tell your mom!" I cover my face with my hands. "Oh, god, I am not looking forward to that."

"What? Ares, no!" I look over at Scott when he grabs my arm, and his face is panicked. "We can't tell my mom!"

I sit up, and he comes up with me. " _Mijo_ , she has to know, you can't just keep her in the dark. Fuck, if we really wanted to play it safe, we should tell Sheriff Stilinski too." I chew my thumb, thinking. That would be best. He could protect Scott from the hunters. Legally. And who doesn't want an inside on the local law enforcement? Most paranormal mysteries series have one, and it works out pretty well for them...

"Ares, _no!_ Please, we can't tell them!" he begs, bringing me out of my thoughts. "They're going to think I'm some kind of freak!"

I blink at him in shock. His eyes brim with tears, and shit. "Scotty, you're not a freak-"

"I grow fangs and claws! My mom..." he wipes at him face. "She won't understand. Can't we just wait? Until I have it figured out?"

I sigh, reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. "We'll wait. If it makes you feel better, we won't tell her yet, okay? But we _are_ going to tell her. And the Sheriff. Alright?"

He nods, and I know I'm going to regret this later. "I just don't want her to look at me and see some monster, a bad guy," he laments, looking like he murdered someone's puppy.

I squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. "Scott, you're not a bad guy," I promise him. "Bad guys don't cry during _BH6_ and _Where the Wild Things Are_."

"Ares!"

I grin at the red hue his face takes. "They don't volunteer to walk the dogs and play with them on weekends," I go on. "And they don't bother to ask for second chances with the girls of their dreams." His eyes go full Steven Universe at the mention of Alice or Allison or whatever her name is. "You might be an idiot sometimes, but you're not a bad guy."

"You really think so?"

" _Mijo_ , I know so," I tell him. His face lights up, only for any evidence of happiness to drop at my next words. "Because if you even think about acting like those fuckboys I used to see hanging around back home, I will personally castrate you with a silver knife, got it?" The color drains from his face and his mouth opens and closes. I smile brightly up at him before standing up, grabbing my phone from the bed. "I'm making banana nut muffins, wanna help?"

"I, uh, I t-told Stiles I'd video call him."

Ah yes, the fear of men gives me life.

I shrug. "Your loss, kid."

"Hey, Ares," he calls as I start out the door. I pause, glance back at him. "You'll come to my game Saturday, right?"

I give him a confused smile. "Do you want me there, _mijo_?" He nods earnestly. I grin at him. "Then I'm there."

* * *

Terrifying at night though it might be, the preserve is something out of a Disney movie on sunny clear days. And while I can't say I trust the shitty little road leading to the Hale House, the Turtle is more than capable when it comes to shit roads. You don't live in Texas and not know how to maneuver around potholes. It's safe to say that the Turtle does not move at the pace of its namesake as I go deliver Derek's muffins.

You know, if Derek was an old lady and I had on my red hoodie instead of my grey Pretty Reckless sweatshirt, this might have been an excellent opportunity for Red Riding Hood pun. But because I'm a respectable human being, I avoid using my red hoodie when hanging out with Scott and Derek now, which sucks, because I love my red hoodie. It has the Steven Universe Star. It's beautiful.

It is because of my less-than-cautious driving I almost run down a certain teenaged werewolf as he comes speeding down the trail in the opposite direction as me on his bike.

"Shit!" I slam on the brakes, skidding to a stop a mere foot away from the kid on the bike. He looks up in shock as I throw the Turtle in park and jump out, slamming the door. "Scott! _Estás bien_?!"

He hops off the bike, pulling his helmet off his head as he nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Wh-OW, Ares!" he exclaims as I punch his arm and smack him upside the head

" _Qué estás haciendo aquí, pendejo_!" I shout. "I almost killed you!"

"Ares, stop hitting me!"

I give him one more solid punch before stepping back. "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand. "You have work in thirty minutes."

"I came to talk to Derek," he says with a scowl. "He's ruining everything!"

I close my eyes, take a breath. "What did he do?"

"He isn't letting me play lacrosse."

The urge to slam my head - or his, I'm not picky - into a tree is strong. Instead, I cross my arms and arch a brow at him. "I want you to think about what you just said, how you said it, and realize you sound like a five year old. Scott, if you're gonna be hurting people, isn't it better if you don't play?"

"You don't get it! He threatened me last night!" he shouts. My arms drop as he reaches behind his back and pulls out his lacrosse stick. "He tore up my crosse just now!"

And lo and behold, the small netting part of the stick is torn, three huge holes making themselves very obvious.

"Last night?" My brows furrow in confusion. "While we were home?"

Scott nods, glaring at the ground as if it had personally offended him. "When I was talking to Stiles."

Rage, cold and hard, settles in the pit of my stomach. "He came into the house? While I was in the kitchen?" Scott nods once, not looking up. "Did he hit you at all?"

"What? No, not really-"

" _Not really_?" I drop my head in my hands. "You gotta be kidding me. Did he do anything else?" I demand, picking my head up. Scott glances up at me. " _Dime la verdad_."

"He came to the school," he admits. "Got into Allison's locker and put her cardigan from the night of the party in it. She thought it was Lydia."

I rub my face. So apparently I'm not _that_ good at weed out idiots if Derek Hale has the audacity to threaten _my_ little cousin. "Alright. Alright, go to work. I'll deal with this."

Scott's face warps in horror. "Ares, you can't go!" He grabs my arm as I make to get back in the Turtle.

"You better fuckin' watch me," I snap, pulling free. "I'm not gonna stand around and let him treat you like that."

"He's dangerous!"

"Never stopped me before," I tell him. His brows furrow in confusion. "I literally lived with a psychopath for five years, _mijo_. Derek isn't shit compared to my dad's wife." Scott takes a step back as I jump in the Turtle, slam the door shut. "Go to work," I order through the open window, snapping on my seatbelt. "I'll talk to him. And don't come looking for him until I give the okay, alright?"

"Be careful," Scott pleads, dragging his bike out of the way.

I give him a small smile. "I'll be fine. He can't afford to kill me; I feed him."

"You're still doing that?"

"It's either the muffins or Bambi in the woods. I'm the lesser of two evils." I throw a quick salute before putting the Turtle in drive and stepping on the gas.

The Hale House looks just as desolate and dilapidated as the last time I was here. The black Camaro from preserve on Scott's first full moon sits off the side of the house. I narrow my eyes at it, throwing the car in park. Since there's a distinct lack of werewolf on the porch, I slam my hand on the horn and only let off when Derek stalks out of the house, looking like something straight out of a suburban mom's wet dream.

I jump out of the car, not even bothering to shut the door as I march up to him, hands balling up into fists as I go.

"What the hell was that?" he demands, dropping down the steps to meet me. "Are you trying to let everyone in town know where we are?"

"You son of a bitch." My fist connects to his jaw, pain shooting through my hand. Derek, surprised by the attack, stumbles back as I shake out my hand.

"Ares, what the fuck!?" His eyes flash blue in his rage. Not thinking twice, I toss up my keys, catching it by the small container of pepper spray, and hold it up level to said blue eyes.

"Back the fuck up, Hale," I say, taking a step forward. He glares, eyes darkening back to green, but complies. "How fucking _dare you_ come into our house and threaten Scott!"

"Would you rather him go and kill someone on the field?" he snarls, leaning forward. I tighten my grip on the spray.

"You think I'm playing? Back up!"

His expression darkens. "You really think a little pepper spray is gonna stop me?"

"You never know if you never try," I snap. "So unless you're absolutely sure this isn't going to fuck your shit up, you better back up."

He holds his ground for all of five seconds before taking a step back.

"Why were you at the school?" I demand. "Scott's girlfriend has nothing to do with this shit."

"You think she'll keep quiet if she finds out about him?" he asks. "She opens her mouth, it isn't just her family trying to get Scott, it's everyone." I open my mouth to counter, but he cuts me off. "And as much as you think you can protect him, you can't, Ares. You'll just get in the way."

"How about you let me worry about that. I can deal." He scoffs, but he doesn't look like he's about to rip out my lungs anymore, so that's a plus. "You're supposed to be teaching him how to control it," I accuse, dropping my arm.

"How am I supposed to do that if he doesn't listen?"

I let my head fall back. "Well, you can start by not being such an abusive asshole!" He seems taken aback by the insult, but he can deal. I call them like I see them. "Seriously, he's a teenager, Derek. You think he's gonna listen to you when you're threatening him?"

He glares off at the trees. "It's for his own good."

I lean back, cocking my head to the side, because, no, he did not just say that. Of all the things, not that. "Excuse me? No, you don't get to justify your actions with that."

"If you're just going to bitch and moan about this, then why don't you just stay out of it?" Derek snarls, leaning in entirely too close for comfort. I glare at him, not giving him the satisfaction of having me step back.

"Fuck off, Derek." I draw myself up to my full height, and while it isn't as tall as the asshat in front of me, it's enough to get his attention. "Either start doing something useful with Scott without hurting him or stay the fuck away from him, got it?" I take a step forward. "Or I'll personally make sure he's the only wolf in Beacon Hills."

I turn on my heels, leaving Derek seething on the steps. When I get to the car, the tub of muffins mock me from the passenger seat. I let out an annoyed growl as I grab them.

"Here's your stupid muffins," I snap, throwing it at Derek's face. He catches it easily, all anger melting away into shock. "Asshole," I mutter, shutting the door with enough force to rattle the windows.

* * *

Because Beacon Hills is filled with assholes and fuckboys, I'm once again stuck home alone on a Friday night. It might also have something to do with the fact that the only people I know are Deaton and the guys from the Sheriff's Station. Family and Stiles don't count. Either way, I'm not feeling that any of them would be down for hitting up any clubs.

My life.

"Ares?"

I look up from my phone to see Melissa standing at my door. "Hey, _Tia_ , what's up?" I ask, dropping my phone next to me. Her lips quirk into a sly smile at the sight as she leans against the door frame.

"Anyone special?" she asks lightly. I drop my head back.

" _Tia_. I'm texting Alicia. Apparently she found herself a man to terrorize," I say lightly, waving my phone in my hand. Melissa's eyes go wide in alarm for a second before she offers an uneasy smile. Let it be known that my sister is quite possibly the personification of the song "Blank Space."

"Oh, well then. Good for her."

I nod. "Yup."

"Alright, well, I'm working the late shift tonight, and Scott is staying with Stiles."

"So big empty house for myself?"

"Big empty house for yourself," Melissa repeats. "Remember to keep the doors locked." I shoot her double finger pistols, clicking my tongue. She rolls her eyes and pushes off to leave. "Be good."

"I'll have you know I am always good," I call after her.

"I recall a certain car that says differently," she says over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall. I crinkle my nose, recalling the incident that lead to my banishment to Beacon Hills.

"She deserves every horrible thing that happens to her and you know it!" I shout.

"Doesn't make it okay!"

"Makes it perfectly okay," I mutter to myself, throwing myself back on the bed, arm tossed over my eyes. "Fuck Elisa."

Before the anger toward that Demon Woman can fully manifest and completely ruin my night, I bring up my phone and pull up the reddit app. Since my life is now officially a nosleep, it helps to read others and put my life into perspective. Look for the silver lining, as I told Scotty. My dear baby cousin might be a man eating wolf every full moon, but at least we don't have skinwalkers roaming around the preserve.

Seriously, fuck skinwalkers.

I'm about halfway through one one of the more famous stories of the nosleep community-something to do with mold-when my phone vibrates in my hand.

"Son of a whore! Who the hell?" I mutter, rubbing my nose where the phone had landed. I sit up, glaring at my phone. Glaring at the name.

 **Derek (1 new message)**

 _Come outside_  
(D)  
 _piss off im mad at you_  
 _what do you want?_  
(A)  
 _Just come outside_  
(D)

"Asshole," I mutter, rolling out of bed as I stuff my phone in the front pocket of my hoodie, seeing as to how the leggings I had changed into earlier don't have any. There's a pair of combat boots I had stolen from my brother by the door, so I shove my feet in them without bothering to tie them before trudging down the stairs. A quick glance at the mirror in the hall makes it obvious what crap my hair is, but fuck Derek. He doesn't deserve to see my hair nice.

Asshole.

The Camaro sits in the driveway next to my Turtle when I walk out, closing the door behind me. Derek leans against the front of it, arms crossed and and face pinched. Said pinched face relaxes enough for his brow to raise when he sees me glare down at him.

" _Qué quieres_?" I demand, crossing my arms. He pushes off his car and walks forward several steps.

"No pepper spray this time?" he asks dryly. I reach into my front pocket and pull out my keys, pepper spray hanging in all it's glory. He shakes his head, muttering under his breath something I can't hear but is probably rude. "Look, there's a reason I'm here."

"Scott's not here if it's to traumatize him," I drawl.

"I'm not - Are you always this difficult?" he demands.

"I thought you'd have figured that out by now." I lean back against the door frame. "What do you want?"

"I came to…" he trails off, looking thoroughly annoyed with himself. "To apologize."

"Bullshit."

He growls in annoyance. "Look, Scott isn't going to listen to me, I get that." I scoff and roll my eyes, but let him go on. "But you? He listens to you."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You don't know that."

He gives me an incredulous look. "You know what he said when he came to my house today? When I told him he'd hurt people? 'Ares won't let me.'" My arms drop as he goes on, not stopping him from walking up the steps. "'Ares won't let me be the bad guy.' That's what he said." Derek stops in front of me, this time mindful of personal space. "You're the closest thing he has to an Alpha right now."

I shift, not entirely sure how to take this information. "Shouldn't his Alpha be his mom?"

Ah, there's the look of disbelief that clearly states how little Derek thinks of me. "Does his mom know about any of this?" he demands, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets.

My head falls back, because, seriously. My life.

"I hate you. I _hate you_." I pick up my head and glare at the low-key smug expression coating his face. "So what now?"

He pulls his hand out of his pocket, keys hanging from their chain. "Get in the car. We'll decide over food, since that's the only time you seem to be civil."

He doesn't even give me a chance to argue before turning on his heels and jumping down the steps to his car.

"You're still an asshole," I call after him, turning to lock the front door.

* * *

 **Be sure to fave/follow/review if you liked it!**

Translations

1\. _Estás bien_? - Are you okay?  
2\. _espinas -_ Splinters  
3\. _Tonto -_ fool/stupid/thoughtless, ect  
4\. _burro cabezon -_ stubborn donkey/ass  
5\. _Qué pasó_? - What happened?  
6\. _Qué estás haciendo aquí, pendejo -_ What are you doing here, stupid/idiot  
7\. _Dime la verdad -_ Tell me the truth  
8 _Qué quieres_? - What do you want?


	5. Chapter 5

Apparently Derek's definition of food is a twenty-four/seven diner that must have been open since the beginning of time. It sits on the edge of town, and most of the patrons are sketchy looking truck drivers sitting at the counter with their third cup of coffee.

"He isn't breaking up with his girlfriend," I say sternly, leaning back in my seat and cross my arms. Derek narrows his eyes.

"Did you miss the part where her family is actively trying to kill him?"

" _She_ isn't," I remind him. "I dunno how she did it, but that girl slipped the kid amortentia." He snorts at the reference, which gives me some hope for this partnership. "You are not going to screw this up for him." I point my finger at him. "And you're not going to stop him from playing lacrosse."

Derek looks like he wants nothing more than to slam his head into the table. The only thing that seems to stop him is the waitress - a tired woman with a no-bullshit stare - bringing out our food. I offer a small smile. She doesn't return it.

"He's going to lose control," Derek hisses as the woman leaves without a word.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you should have a little more faith in him?" I ask lightly, swiping a fry from my plate and dropping it in my mouth.

"No."

Wow. Cold. I take a breath. "You're not making this any easier, dude." He glares at his food. "You want my help, you gotta take the criticism, alright? So first things first: No more unlawful entering of the house."

I can't say I've ever seen anyone look so angry taking a bite of a double cheese burger as Derek Hale. Drama queen.

"That it?" he demands. I laugh into my burger.

"Oh, honey, no. We're just getting started." I take a sip of my drink as he watches on, clearly not amused. "Stiles is in on this too, so you can't be mean to him."

"Seriously?"

"Leave Allison alone," I go on, ignoring him. He doesn't look up at me. "I mean it, Derek, leave them alone," I say, pointing a finger at his nose. "If she ends up being some sort of psychopath after his wolfhood, I'll deal with it."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

I shrug. "Dunno yet. I'll be creative, though." He doesn't look convinced. "It'll be fun, don't worry. I'll call up my brother and sister, they'll help." Lord have mercy on that little girl it if comes to bringing in Aaron and Alicia.

"Right."

"Next time you decide to try and scare the shit out of Scott, I wanna know first," I tell him. "Okay it and all that shit. Maybe record it and post in on reddit for that sweet, sweet karma."

"Thought I wasn't allowed unlawful entry," he says dryly. My head drops to the side.

"There are other ways to scare the shit out of people, Derek. Haven't you watched the movie _Cursed_ with Christina Ricchi and the guy from _Zombieland_? There was this scene in a car garage, holy shit, that was a good one."

"Please don't tell me you've been watching all those shit werewolf movies for research."

I smile brightly at him. "Guilty. Hey, some of them are good."

"Most are shit."

I crinkle my nose at him. His brows raise at my next words. "Name one shit werewolf movie," I dare him.

" _The Howling_."

I slam my hand on the table, snatch my napkin packet of silverware and stick it under his nose. " _The Howling_ was a cinematic masterpiece, I will fight you."

"She turns into a Pomeranian at the end," he says dryly, pushing my hand out of his face gently. "Did you miss the part where the husband and the she-wolf have sex and turn together?"

I make a face. "Okay, so that was a part that could have been left out. But did you read the book? The sex scene wasn't nearly as painful to read as it was to watch." I pause. "I mean, it still had some issues, obviously, but it was _okay_."

Derek leans back, rubbing his face with his hand and looking like he just wants to become one with the booth. "I am not having this conversation with you. We're talking about your cousin."

"Not the best segue, but fine." I cross my arms and lean back. "We'll stop talking about sex and books and not shitty werewolf movies." Derek rolls his eyes. "So our main problem is _mijo_ going rage monster randomly. How do we stop that?"

"He needs to find an anchor, something for him to focus on and keep him human. Keep him calm."

I frown. "Anchor. Right. What are good anchors?"

"Pain."

"You can suck a dick."

He narrows his eyes. "Anger."

"Doesn't exactly sound healthy," I counter. "What about happy things? Badass things? Do phrases work? Can I have him memorize the Night Watch's Oath?"

"He's not going out past the Wall, so no."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Okay, but do phrases work?" He offers a curt nod. "Sweet. What about people? Like, get him to think about how his mom is gonna murder him if he does something stupid, would that work?" He just arches a brow and does a spectacular impression of someone who's 1000% done.

"Can you be serious? For five seconds."

"I am being serious!" I exclaim. "If I knew my siblings would be after my head if I went killed someone - which, they would - I sure as shit wouldn't hulk out."

"Right," Derek drawls. "You done?"

"It's a legit suggestion!"

"It could use some work."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Whatever." He leans back, smug. "So what about the guy that bit him? Is that going to be a problem?"

Derek's expression goes dark. "As far as I know, it isn't here anymore. I haven't caught its scent."

"That's good, right?" I ask. "No more teenage werewolves?" He opens his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by a very smug Vegeta.

" _Bitch, you just jealous of my super saiyan swagger_."

Derek doesn't even look surprised at the text tone. I duck my head as I pull the phone out of my pocket. "I might have changed Scott's text tone."

"To DBZ abridged?"

"He turns into a rage monster during the full moon, dude. He's practically a super saiyan," I tell him, opening the message. "Also, the fact that you know what that was gives me so much hope for this relationship."

 **Human Puppy (1 new message)**

 _where r u?_  
(HP)  
 _Derek's bribing me with food. The diner out by the highway has some mean burgers, let me tell you mijo_  
(A)  
 _y r u with derek?!_  
(HP)  
 _We came to an understanding. We're cool now. We're figuring out how to keep you from killing people. Kinda. Don't worry, I'm fine_  
(A)

"So in other unsurprising news, Scott still doesn't like you," I declare, setting my phone down after putting it on silent.

"I don't need him to like me."

"It'd make things a lot easier if he did," I point out. He doesn't argue, so I count it as a win.

* * *

"ARES!" Stiles shouts, followed by a loud bang, the door slamming into my wall. "Ares!"

"What the fu-!" I pick up my head, hair falling in my face. "Stiles? _Qué pasó_?" I groan, falling back into my bed. "Is Scotty okay?"

"Scott-why haven't you been answering your phone?!" Stiles demands, rushing in the room, dropping his bag on my trunk. "We've literally been calling you all night!"

I motion to my phone on my nightstand. "'s on silent, _mijo_ ," I mumble, pulling my covers over my head. "Why are you here? _Déjame dormir_."

"Ares, seriously? Get up!"

And the covers are torn away. "Stiles!" I snap, finally sitting up to look at him. "What the hell?!" He drops the blankets on the floor, barely ducking in time to miss the pillow I throw at him.

"Derek killed the girl in the woods!" I drop my head in my hands.

"Not this again…"

"I'm serious, Ares, we found the body!" My head snaps up at him. "He had it buried by his land. She was, I dunno, a werewolf, a different kind." He shakes his head, like he's trying to rid the image form his mind. "Look, whatever. Scott's been going mental all night after you told him you were with Derek."

I hold my hand up to stop him. "Wait. Just, give me a second to process this." I take a breath. "Derek killed the girl and buried her body on his property?" That doesn't sound like the best idea in the history of murders. Isn't the idea to take the suspicion off of you?

"Yes! They arrested him this morning." Stiles drops into my computer chair. "She was wrapped in some sort of wolf's bane rope shit."

"Derek Hale. He killed the girl in the woods?" Because, really. I still can't see it.

Stiles barrels on as if I didn't speak. "It started messing with Scott when we were leaving. He jumped out of the jeep and ran for it." He pauses. "I think he wolfed out, man."

"Shit." I grab my phone, and yup. Missed calls. So many missed calls. "Shit. Shitshitshit." I look up at Stiles. "Out. I need to change."

"What about Scott?!"

"Why the fuck do you think I need to change, _pendejo_!" I snap. "Seriously, you think I'm just gonna head out and get groceries?" Stiles jumps up, side steps to the door. "Call Scott, ask him where he is."

"I already trie-"

"Then try again, Stiles." After tossing him my phone, I shoo him away with a dismissive wave of my hand. " _Ya vete_."

Stiles hurries out the room, pulling up the contacts of my phone as he goes. I take a second to breathe, because seriously, fuck my life.

After a quick change into clothes that make me look a little less like a hobo and pulling my hair up into a messy bun, I walk out of my room to meet Stiles. He's leaning against the wall, chewing on his thumb, talking quietly into the phone.

"-sounds really pissed, man. You sho-Hey!"

I snatch the phone from his hand. "Scott McCall, you have _literally_ five seconds to tell me where you are." I shove past a flinching Stiles and take the stairs two at a time.

"Ares! You're oka-"

"Where. Are. You."

Behind me, Stiles says, "Oh shit, we're fucked."

Well. He isn't wrong.

* * *

We find Scott loitering outside Deaton's clinic. The clinic itself is closed and empty; Deats doesn't do weekends apparently, which, same. Scott and Stiles pulling shit like this isn't doing any of us favors.

"Stiles, backseat, now," I order as I pull up in front of Scott, who has his head ducked down and is reaching around his waist to grab his other arm. Stiles doesn't have to be told twice, and jumps out before the car is even in park, almost falling on his face before throwing the front seat forward and crawling in the back. God, that kid is awkward.

Scott doesn't even look up as he shuffles to the car, fixing the seat and climbing in the passenger side as Stiles situates himself in the middle seat in the back.

"Ares-"

"Just put on your seatbelt, Scotty." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Stiles lean forward and pat his arm. The first five minutes of the drive is silent, save for Stiles thrumming his fingers on his knees.

"You weren't answering your phone," Scott finally mutters.

"I was asleep. I told you to stay away from Derek until I said so," I counter.

"I smelled blood yesterday!"

"And you didn't think to tell me?" I demand, hitting the brakes a bit too hard for a red light. "What the hell, you decided to just fuckin' go and check it out alone?"

"I didn't want to worry you!"

"Are you kidding me? Scott, you're a fuckin' werewolf! I'm always going to be worried now! You can't just keep this shit from me!" I push flyaway hairs out of my face as the light turns green. "How am I supposed to help you if you don't let me?"

"I don't remember asking you for help!" Scott snaps.

I throw him a glare. His body is tense, expression hard. "God, Scotty…" I take a breath. "You don't have to ask for help. We're family, _mijo_ ; we gotta look out for each other."

"I don't need you to look out for me," he mutters, but there isn't much heat in his voice.

"Yeah, well a lot of shit can fall apart because of that mindset," I tell him sharply. He winces as I go on. "So stop bitching and let me help you."

The silence that follows my words is tense and heavy. Unsurprisingly, it's Stiles that breaks it. "Is now a bad time to ask if you're speaking from experience?" he asks, leaning forward between the two front seats.

"I will literally throw you out and make sure you go under the wheels, Stilinski." He slowly leans back into his seat. "So what's the deal with Derek? Did he really kill the girl?"

"Did you miss the part where we found the body?" Stiles asks. I arch a brow at him through the rear view. "I mean, uh…"

"If he didn't, then why would he try to hide the body?" Scott asks, successfully saving his friend from being thrown out the car and under the wheels. And shit, he has a point.

"And you're positive it was the girl and not, I dunno, a manikin? Maybe he just has a weird fetish or something," I offer desperately. "Or what if it was old? Like, someone else buried it before he even got here."

Scott narrows his eyes in suspicion at me. "Why are you trying so hard to defend him?"

I throw a hand up. "Oh, I dunno, maybe because I need him to teach you how to not kill people?" I rub my forehead. "He's literally the only one that knows what's going on with you, dude."

"You know," Stiles says hesitantly. "As much as I don't like the guy, Ares has a point."

"Of course I have a point!"

"Doesn't change the fact that we went to the morgue and made sure it was the murdered girl," he goes on as if I didn't speak. My shoulders fall and I let out a mock sob. Scott glances back at Stiles before reaching over and patting my shoulder.

Why is this my life?

* * *

Finding a parking spot for the game is painful and annoying. In the end, Melissa and I just barely manage to snag one somewhere in the middle. It'll be a bitch to get out, but I have faith in my dear auntie.

"I don't get what the big deal is about this sport," I say, following Melissa to the stands, trying to ignore the cold. Probably should have grabbed a thicker hoody. "The band doesn't even play during half-time." Melissa snorts her laughter. "Does this school even have a marching band?" I ask, juggling the small poster boards in my hands.

"I wouldn't know, honey," Melissa admits. "Not like Scott could ever do that."

I nod, spotting Stiles heading for the bench. "Yeah, guess you're right. How much trouble do you think I'd get in for sitting up there with Stiles?"

She glances over at him, then shrugs. "From what Scott tells me, the coach is really featherbrained. You'd probably get away with it. If he catches you, just say you're with the school newspaper. He won't tell the difference."

A small part of me wants to take offense, because I did my time as a stupid high schooler, and I'm not too keen on being mistaken for one again. But on the other hand, get to sit with Stiles. I decide to take the optimistic route.

"Awesome. You want a sign?" I offer, holding one out for her.

"This is going to embarrass him so much," she sighs before smiling. "It's perfect, thanks." She takes the sign and heads up the stands. I turn to face the benches and see Scott standing just at the front of the field. Some ginger girl playing it smart and wearing earmuffs is standing with him, entirely too close to be happy with him, judging by her body language.

" _Mijo_!" I call out, getting both teens attention. Scott actually looks relieved as I all but skip over to him. I don't miss the lazy once over the girl gives me. I arch a brow at her before turning my attention to my cousin. " _Estás bien_?" I ask, grabbing his hand. He nods once, but doesn't look too convinced. " _No te preocupes_. _Todo va ser bien_ , _vas a ver_." He offers a small smile. The ginger girl crosses her arms, obviously not liking being ignored. I give a small nod in her direction and really hope my next wuestion has a negative answer. " _Es tu novia_?"

Imagine my surprise when she's the one that answers. "No, no I am not his girlfriend."

" _Ay, perdon, no sabía que habías entendido_!" I exclaim, not feeling nearly as apologetic as my words. "Well, I'm off then," I say, leaning forward and planting a kiss on his forehead.

"Ares!" he exclaims, embarrassed. He wipes it off, crinkling his nose.

"Remember, kick ass, don't kill anyone, watch out for the jerk you were telling me about," I remind him. "Winning isn't everything, so don't go crazy, okay?" He glances over at the girl. She glares at me. It takes all my willpower not to roll my eyes at her.

"I don't know where you come from, but here, lacrosse is kind of a big deal," she says tightly. "We need this win."

"Ginger, you aren't the one playing," I tell her. "Go sit down." She rears back as if I struck her. Must be the queen bee, not used to being talked down to.

"Excuse me?"

I turn to face her, arching a brow. "Honey. It's good that you're showing team spirit, but don't push your problematic ideals on others. It doesn't end well for anyone."

"Oh my god, Ares," Scott groans, rubbing his face. The girl turns on her heels and stalks away. "Do you realize who you just pissed off?"

"She's like twelve, what's she gonna do?" I ask lightly, patting his cheek. He ducks away, catching my hand and pulling it away.

"You really think I'll be okay?"

I nod. "Every time you get mad, take a breath and remember that I got your back if you wolf out. I'll, I dunno, pull a Hermione and set someone on fire as a distraction, alright."

"Don't set someone on fire," he pleads, but he's smiling, so win for me.

"I gotta go. Gonna sit next to Stiles so he can tell me what the hell is going on. Good luck!" I shoot him a finger pistol and he turns a bright red. Ah yes, embarrassing the little cousin. Gives me life.

* * *

 **So that was that. Wanna take this time to give a shout out to those that have faved/followed/reviewed already. You're the best!** **ヽ(´▽｀)ノ For those just jumping in, I hope you like it so far and if you do, be sure to leave a review!**

Translations

1\. _Qué pasó_? - What happened?  
2\. _Déjame dormir -_ Let me sleep.  
3\. _Ya vete -_ Go away.  
4\. _Estás bien_?Are you okay?  
5\. _No te preocupes_. _Todo va ser bien_ , _vas a ver -_ Don't worry. Everything will be okay, you'll see.  
6\. _Es tu novia -_ Is she you girlfriend?  
7\. _Ay, perdon, no sabía que habías entendido -_ Oh, forgive me. I didn't know you understood.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello! Before we start, you should know that there have been some small edits done to the earlier chapters. Chapters 2 and 3 have small scenes added, which introduce two new characters - Ares' friends from back home - and give a bit more insight on her character.  
**

* * *

I find Stiles sitting at the bench, a bit off to himself. He's watching the field, face drawn in worry, and I can't say I blame him. He doesn't notice my arrival until after I sit next to him.

"Ares!" He jumps as I situate the sign by my legs. "What're you doing here?" He frowns in confusion and glances down at my signs before looking back up at me as I shift, making myself as comfortable as one can be on these crappy benches. I should bring a blanket to sit on for the next game.

"Watching the game, obvi," I drawl. He stares at me before flailing wildly when I don't get up to move.

"You're not allowed to sit here!" I give him a pointed look and he backpedals. "I mean, no one can tell you where to sit, but it's suggested you go to the _stands_."

I roll my eyes. "Stands are boring. This is where you get to see the action." I pause before going on, voice lower. "Also I want to be close in case anything happens to Scott."

He nods, chewing on his glove, which ew. How many germs does that thing have on it? "Alright, logic."

Damn straight, alright logic.

"Hey kid." For once, Stiles doesn't actually jump, an impressive feat. Then again, considering it's his dad, I figure he knows his voice well enough to not. The Sheriff thumps his back, leaning over next to him.

"Hey," Stiles says, not taking his eyes off the field, where some of his teammates, Scotty included, warm up.

"Yo, Sheriff." Stilinski leans forward to look at me and I offer him a small salute. He frowns, and in this moment, one can totally see the relations between Sheriff and Spazy Child.

"Ares, why are you sitting over here?"

"This is where the fun stuff is," I tell him. "Also I figure I can con this nerd into telling me what's going on." I lean over and thump Stiles' shoulder with my own. Sheriff Stilinski arches a brow, but doesn't argue.

"Right, well." He turns his attention to his kid. "Any chance you'll see any action tonight?"

"Action?" We exchange looks. "Maybe."

"My _tia_ is over there somewhere, if you wanna sit with her," I tell him, smiling brightly. "You know, old people sticking together."

"Watch it, young lady," he says sternly, pointing a finger at me. "I'll have you know Melissa gave me grounding rights to you."

I give him a flat look. "Grounding, Sheriff? I'm nineteen. I'm an adult; I'm gonna be doing taxes this year."

"I will take your car keys," he threatens, but he's smiling as he reaches over and flicks my forehead.

"Hey!" I glare at him, rub the sore spot.

"Be good, you two." With that, he leaves. I frown at Stiles.

"He won't really take my car keys, will he?"

He glances over at me. "Welcome to the McCall-Stilinski family, Ares. Melissa gets punishing rights over me and my dad gets punishing rights over you and Scott."

I crinkle my nose. "I'm not a McCall."

"You are in spirit - look, can you just focus on the game?"

I roll my eyes, but turn my attention to the game. The game that is basically hockey on grass. I don't really see the appeal. As far as I can tell, things are going all right. At least until I realized that no one was passing to Scotty, and the one time he almost got the ball, a member of his own team shoved him aside and snatched it away.

"That's bull shit!" I exclaim, jumping up and getting the attention of the other players. "They're on the same team! Why would he do that?!"

"Ares, that was Jackson," Stiles explains. He says it with such disdain, I figure it has to have some importance behind it. I frown, trying to place the name and the annoyace it brings up.

"Oh, shit, is that the kid Scotty broke?" Before he can answer, a chorus of cheers for this Jackson kid rings out behind us. We look back to see two girls, one being that ginger from earlier, holding a sign for the guy.

"Brutal," Stiles says, looking back to Scott, who stands in the middle of the field, staring at the sign with slumped shoulders.

"Fuck that," I snap, reaching down and grabbing my own sign - **Scotty McHotty #11** \- and holding it up over my head. "No one makes my baby cousin feel inadequate but me."

"Ares, what're you-"

"Let's go Scott!" I shout, pulling his attention from the girls. "Scotty! McHotty!"

"Ares-"

"Make the girls go naughty!"

"Oh my god." Stiles drops his face in his hands. Scott, frozen on the field, relaxes, shaking his head. "You're the worst."

"I think you mean the best," I counter, turning toward the crowd with the sign still up. The girls notice, and while the cute brunette beams at the sign, clapping and tugging at her friend's arm, Ginger narrows her eyes at me. I cock my head to the side, smiling sweetly as Alicia taught me. And yeah, I might be acting petty, but if there's anything I'm good at, it's that. I turn back to Stiles, sitting back down as the teams regroup and holding the sign in my lap. "He isn't killing anyone now. I'm distracting him."

"You're embarrassing him!"

My head drops to the side. "Stiles. When did the bragging of being able to get female companions get embarrassing?"

He shakes his head. "You're horrible."

"Just watch the game, _mijo_."

The game goes on. And literally no one passes to Scott. No one. Even from the the sidelines it's easy to see how frustrated he's getting, despite my best efforts with the sign. Frustration leading to anger. Anger leading to wolfing out. Close to the end, Beacon Hills is down two points, five to three.

"This is bad," Stiles mutters, chewing on his lip. "He's getting pissed."

"How do we get him not pissed?"

"I dunno, why don't you distract him again," he says sarcastically. I glare down at him and he winces. "It's a legit suggestion!" I look back at the girls with the Jackson sign. The dark haired one looks slightly annoyed with it, but holds it all the same. "Look, maybe if he gets a goal, it'll calm him down?"

"Stiles…" The players line up again. I keep my eyes on Scotty, shake my sleeves down over my hands. "Keep it cool, _mijo_ ," I say quietly. His head shoots up in my direction. "Oh my god, can you hear me right now?" I demand. Stiles looks over at me like I'm crazy as Scott gives a small nod of his head. "Are you okay? Do I need to set anyone on fire?" He shakes his head, barely noticeable.

"What are you talking about?" Stiles demands, smacking my arm. I nod over at Scott.

"He can hear me! Dude's got super sweet werewolf powers now, how cool is that?" I turn back to Scott. "Look, just stay cool. You'll be fine."

He doesn't acknowledge this comment, as the game starts up again. And Scotty fucking goes. He literally uses another player's shoulder as a platform to jump as he makes a goal.

"Holy shit did you see that?!" Stiles exclaims as the crowd starts screaming. I frown as the coach, a crazy haired dude, starts shouting at the team to pass to him.

"That's not right," I say softly, my stomach dropping. " _Mijo,_ reel it in." Does he listen? No. He growls at a player from the other team until the kid literally threw him the ball. The coach drops into the bench on the other side of Stiles.

"Did the other team pass McCall the ball?" he asks in disbelief. Stiles chews on his glove.

"Looks like it, Coach."

"Interesting." He stands, glancing over at me and doing a double take when he notices the lack of jersey. "Who are you?"

"School newspaper," I say flatly, not looking up at him. "Stiles is helping with the jargo-Oh my god, Scott, really?!" I exclaim as the kid literally tears another player's net thing with his ball to get it to the goal. Stiles jumps up, cheering with everyone else, then rushing off to help the coach convince the ref the shot counted. I shake my head.

"Are you really with the school newspaper?" There's a boy in lacrosse gear standing a little away from the bench I sit at. He's standing slouched, tucked into himself as he holds his net stick close. He ducks his head a bit when I look up at him, like he didn't mean to say it out loud and is waiting to be called out on it. He's a cute kid, and has kicked puppy eyes to rival Scott's. But there's something about him, something I can't quite put my finger on. Something familiar about the way he holds himself. I find myself answering truthfully despite myself.

"Nah," I tell him, and he relaxes. "I'm Scott's cousin, and I wanted to sit down here with Stiles."

He nods, smiling a bit, only to start when the coach barks out, "Lahey! Stop flirting with the press and take Greenburg's place!" The boy, Lahey, nods, and glances back at me.

I give a shooing motion, and catching sight of his number, call out, "Good luck, 14!" He runs off, and is lost in the game.

The teams line up again. As soon as they start, someone throws the ball to Scott and he takes off, only to come to a stop a few yards away from the goal.

"Something's not right," I insist, grabbing Stiles' arm when he comes back to sit. "He's wolfin' out, man, _mira_!" Seconds tick by, the air heavy and tense as he looks between the players surrounding him. Two charge at him, and that's when he makes his move, throwing the ball into the goal. Stiles jumps up, arm ripped from my grip. The stands go crazy, screaming and clapping and cheering. I keep my sights on Scott, narrowing my eyes as he pulls off his glove and stares down at his hand.

"Oh shit." He runs off the field. "Shitshitshit!" I jump up and run after him, ignoring Stiles protests and shoving past the crowds as the fall into the field. "Scott, Scotty!" I shout after him. "Dammit, Scott," I mutter as he disappears from the lights. I follow, only to stop when a hand grabs my arm.

"Are you crazy?" Stiles demands, panting and holding his side. Which, wow, I didn't realize how out of shape the kid is. I'm totally gonna start making him come run with me in the morning.

"Stiles!" I try to tug my arm from his grip, but he just grabs with his other hand, his face set.

"Ares, if he's wolfing out, he can hurt you!" he says harshly, then ducks his head and looks around to make sure no one heard him. They didn't; everyone's too busy celebrating the victory. "I know you have all this faith in him, but…" he trails off, his expression conflicted. "If he went after me, who's to say he won't go after you?"

I look at him, then to where Scott disappeared. A figure disappears into what I can only guess is the locker rooms. "Who the fuck…?"

"I think that was Allison," Stiles says, his voice tight in fear. "Shit. Shiiiit, she's gonna die." My hand falls to my pocket, where my pepper spray is and pull it out. Stiles stares at it in shock. "Are you serious?!"

"Shut up and come on," I snap, hating what I'm considering doing. But if Derek said about pain bringing Scott back down to human, then, it's worth a try. When we get to the locker rooms, Stiles has a tight hold of my hand. We pause at the door, exchanging looks at the lack of screams that would come with someone getting ripped apart. Stiles shrugs, his grip on my hand loosening as he reaches out and flips on the light.

"Scott?" he calls out, leading the way into the room. It smells like sweat and teenage testosterone. Makes my nose hurt. He pokes his head around the corner of lockers and lets out a loud sigh of relief. "There you are!" He turns to face me. "Found them, Ares."

I all but push past Stiles to get a look for myself. Standing together, hands intertwined and faces flushed, are Scott and the pretty - really pretty, actually, no wonder Scott is so in love with her - brunette girl.

" _Mijo_!"

The joy of not walking in to find my cousin standing over a dead girl outweighs the anger of him wolfing out during the game.

"Er, guys," Scott greets awkwardly, glancing between the girl and Stiles and me. "What're you doing?"

"We thought you were dying," Stiles says quickly, and it doesn't escape my notice how his eyes flicker to the girl when he says that.

"You know, because sometimes you stop breathing," I add. The girl's eyes go wide in surprise and she looks at Scott, face warped in concern.

"I'm fine," he says quickly, first to us, then turning to the girl. "Allison, I'm fine."

"Obviously, if you're sucking face," Stiles mutters too quietly for Allison to hear. I snort, shaking my head and thumping his arm.

"Be nice." I turn to face the girl, Allison. "So you're Allison! I'm Ares," I say, introducing myself, because she's been looking at me in confusion when she isn't looking at Scott like he's the most adorable nerd this side of the globe.

"Ares…?" Her eyes light up with recognition. "You're Scott's cousin!" I nod once, glancing over at Scott, who apparently talks about me to girlfriend. He ducks his head in embarrassment. Feeling the love, little cousin. "You should come out with us!" she invites cheerfully. "We're all going out to eat, right?" She looks to Scott and Stiles for confirmation.

"Yeah, Ares, come," Stiles says, then leans in, grabbing my arm again. "Suffer with me," he pleads.

"Sorry, honey bunch," I say dryly, patting his cheek. "Suffer alone like the rest of us." I motion to the door. "We gonna get out of here before Allison and I start growing beards from the toxic levels of testosterone in here?"

Allison smiles and shit. Yeah, I can see why Scott in love with the girl. "Are you sure you don't want to come along?" she asks, following me out the room, towing Scott behind her by his hand. "We've more than enough room in my Dad's SUV."

Right. Her dad. The guy actively trying to kill my cousin.

"Yeah, Ares, you sure you don't wanna come?" Stiles asks. I make a face at him and flick his nose. He squawks, slapping my hand away and rubbing his nose. "Rude!"

I laugh, turn to answer Allison. "Nah, it's cool. You guys won't want me around anyway. I can't even get you alcohol." I sigh sadly. "It's horrible."

"You don't even drink," Scott accuses. I shrug.

"Not anymore." I pause my the door, notice the SUV in front of the small building.

"That's my dad," Allison explains. "I asked him to meet us here." She turns to Stiles. "You wanna ride with us? At least to your jeep," she says quickly when he hesitates.

He glances over at me. "You sure you-"

"Stiles. Go. I want to sleep."

He sighs, then motions to the truck. "Let's go then. Traitor," he grumbles at me. I roll my eyes as Scott frowns.

"You gonna be okay walking to the car?"

" _Mijo_." I pull my pepper spray from my pocket. "I'll live. Go have fun, nerds. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Stiles gives a flat look. "So sex." I shoot finger pistols at him. He looks over at a blushing Scott and Allison. "Actually, I would also appreciate it if you didn't do that right now."

The trio say their goodbyes as they clamber into the car, and the man in the driver's seat of the truck nods in my direction before pulling out.

The stands are very much empty by the time I get to them and shit. Please don't let Melissa have left me. I pull my phone out, revealing a text from her.

 **Auntie Dearest (1 new message)**

 _Where are you? I'm waiting in the car.  
_ (AD)  
 _Went to check on Scotty. His girl invited me to go eat with them. She's cute.  
_ (A)

I send off the text, planning on sending another asking her to wait on me as I walk past the concession stand.

A hand grabs my arm and yanks me to the side, pushing me against the shadowed wall of the stand. My phone slips from my hand when I open it to push the person away as I bring up my spray, but a hand wraps around both my wrists, stopping my actions. The stream of obscenities I had planned on unleashing on this fucker die off before I have a chance of letting them out when the person leans in, revealing his face.

"We need to talk," he growls.

"Derek?" I stare up at him in shock, unable to do anything else before I realize what him being here would mean. I close my eyes, my head falling back and to the side as I let out a tired sigh. "They fucked up, didn't they?"

"You think?" His eyes flash and shit, he's livid.

"Well you didn't exactly paint yourself as the most innocent person!" I snap, yanking my wrists from his hands. "You can't have dead person on your property and not have people think you did it, _burro cabezon_!" I shove him back, though I think the only reason he moves is because he allows it. "God, what the hell were you thinking?! Scott already thought you were a serial killer! You just fueled the flames, stupid!" I reach down and snatch my phone from the ground and stuff my pepper spray in my pocket. "God, why is it that I'm the only one around here who seems to have any common sense?"

" _You_ have common sense?!" he demands. "You were about to follow Scott into a dark locker room when he was out of control! How stupid can you be? He could have killed you!"

"Oh my god!" I groan in frustration. "No wonder they had you thrown in jail!" He glares down at me. Whatever. "Derek, you can't expect him to trust you if you don't trust him." He opens his mouth to say something. "And yes, you do need him to trust you, or this won't be worth shit."

Before he can argue, my phone vibrates in my hand.

 **Auntie Dearest (1 new message)  
**

 _Make sure Scott gets home at a reasonable hour. I have work early tomorrow, so try not to make a lot of noise coming home._

I close my eyes and lean back into the wall. "Are you kidding me?" I run a hand through my hair before letting my arm drop to my side. "Well Melissa just left me here."

Derek huffs, stepping back and turning to leave. "Get a ride from Stiles then," he snarls over his shoulder.

"Fuck you," I snap back. He doesn't acknowledge the comment. "Stiles already left, asshole." He stills, glances back with narrowed eyes. "In case you haven't noticed, everyone already left." I gesture with a hand to the empty field. "Congratulations, bro, I have to walk home now."

Derek's shoulders fall, the fight gone out of him. "Don't be stupid, Ares." He turns to face me. "Come on." He pulls his keys out of his pocket. I glare at him.

"I'd rather walk."

"Ares." He seems sincere if not annoyed. Best mood all night, actually. Fuck it, here goes nothing.

"Why'd you bury her?"

He reels back, his hand falling to his side. "What?"

"The girl. Why…" I take a breath. "Why did you bury her?"

He doesn't look at me. Stares at the ground like it's the most interesting thing in the world. When he finally speaks, it's quiet. "Laura's…"

"Laura?"

"The girl in the woods was Laura Hale," he says tightly. "She went missing back home. When I came to find her…" he trailed off, and for the first time since I've met him, his near constant annoyed, hard to read expression breaks down, and there's Derek Hale, the person. Someone in mourning. Someone _human._

The air rushes out of my lungs when I realize what this means. " _Ay Dios mio_." Derek doesn't react, doesn't look up, doesn't speak. I can't blame him, can't imagine... "Derek…"

My idiot cousin and his equally stupid best friend just dug up Derek's _sister_.

He doesn't acknowledge me when I take a step forward, so I decide fuck it. Here's to hoping he doesn't punch me. He tenses when I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him.

"Ares. What are you doing?" he demands roughly, but doesn't push me away, so points.

"Your life sucks, and Baymax says hugs help," I say, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I've been told I give bomb hugs for being a delinquent."

He snorts, relaxing. "You're not a delinquent."

I pull away, keeping my hands on his shoulders. "That depends entirely on who you ask. My dad's wife would tell you I crawled out of hell just to ruin her life." His brows shoot up and whoops, that might be TMI. "But she's a bitch, and I'm coming to accept that her opinion doesn't matter."

He frowns. "You're not that bad," he says under his breath. I might hug him again.

"You've known me all of a week and a half. Don't make up your mind yet." I drop my hands and gesture forward. "Lead the way, Fangface." He rolls his eyes, but turns to the parking lot.

"Is that going to be a thing? Werewolf names?"

"There's literally no way you can stop me."

"I can rip out your lungs," he says lightly, a tone I didn't realize he was capable of. Especially after what he just told me about his sister. Maybe he's one of those gallows humor kinda guys, which, yeah, I can relate.

"Do I have to mention what I can cut off with a rusty butter knife?" I ask. He looks down at me, brows to his hairline. I smile brightly up at him and he looks away, shaking his head, but I catch how his lips lift at the edges.

Derek's Camaro is the only car left in the lot. It sits on its little lonesome at the very back. At least he had the brains to not park under the only flickering lamp, which seems to stay dark more than light.

"This place is creepy as shit at night," I mutter, shaking my sleeves over my hands and glancing around the lot suspiciously. "Very B-horror movie."

"And you wanted to walk," Derek says dryly as we near the car. I look back at the flickering lamp as it lights go dark, a large shadow jumping into the darkness.

"Derek." I grab his arm, pull him back. He opens his mouth to argue, but I nod at the light, not letting go of his arm. He frowns down at me, but looks to the lamp as it flickers too fast to get a good look at the thing in hanging out under. I narrow my eyes at it. "Dude, the fuck is that?" The figure moves, and this time the light stays on just long enough for me to make out the clear canine silhouette. "Is that a dog?"

Derek grabs my wrist, hard, and steps back, pulling me with him. "That's not a dog," he breathes. I look up at him, then at the not-dog. The lamp lights up, and stays lit up.

" _Dios mio_."

I clutch at Derek's arm as he backs away, slowly. The thing-because it can only be a _thing_ -lowers itself, crouches, its red eyes flashing like hellfire. Derek's got a bruising grip on my wrist with one hand and his keys in the other.

It stands. Slowly lifting itself on its back two feet. It towers, stands almost halfway up the lamp. It stands absolutely still for a second. Only a second before it drops back down on all fours. And fuckin' charges.

Derek grabs my shoulder and whirls me around to face the car. " _Run_!" He keeps a grip on my wrist, pulling me after him. Behind us, the creature snarls and snaps. Derek holds up his keys, unlocking it once we're close enough. Instead of letting me get in from the passenger side, he pulls me after him to the driver side, throwing the door open and all but shoving me in.

"Comeoncomeoncomeon!" I shout at him as he jumps in after me and slams the door, throwing the locks.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he growls, sticking the keys in the ignition and twisting. The engine roars to life and he throws the car in gear before stomping on the gas. The thing leaps at the car and just barely misses it. I twist in my seat to look out the rear window. I immediately regret it.

"It's coming!" I slap Derek's arm as he gets the car out of the parking lot and into the deserted street. "Hurry!"

"I'm going!" he shouts, glancing up at the rearview then down at me. "Put on your seatbelt," he snaps. I gape up at him.

"The Beast of Bray Road is chasing us down and you're worried about my _seatbelt_?!" I demand, then looking back again. It's farther away now, slowing, as if giving up. "I think it's stopping."

"Let's not assume," Derek grounds out and speeds up. "Ares, put on your seatbelt."

This time I don't argue. "Dude, the fuck was that?" Unable to stop myself, I look back again. The creature, the mutant dog/hell hound/beast from the abyss stands in the center of the road, burning eyes glaring after us. It throws back its head and lets out a long howl. I sink into my seat and glance up at Derek. He tightens his grip on the wheel, and even in the dark I can see his knuckles go white. His eyes flash blue, and he lets out a low growl. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, and when he opens them again, he's gone back to normal. "Derek, what was that?"

He glares ahead. "The Alpha. Scott's Alpha."

"Alph… _That_ thing bit Scott?!" I look up at him. "I thought you said it was gone!"

"It was!" he growls, then takes a breath. "It was."

I lean my head back against the rest and try to calm my pounding heart. "Everything is gonna go to hell now, isn't it?"

He doesn't offer an answer. It does very little to make me feel any better.

* * *

 **The Alpha returns! Leave a review and leave your thoughts, criticisms, and/or your favorite favorite song, because I can only listen to the same three playlists so many times. Newcomers, if you liked the story, be sure to favorite/follow! That's always great.** _(There isn't an emoji thing for the hand heart thing, but I'm making the hand heart thing at everyone because you're all the best and I appreciate you)_


	7. Chapter 7

We find ourselves back at the diner from last night because near death experiences need unhealthy diner food to make everything okay. The same no bullshit waitress stands by the counter, glancing over at us with disinterest before gesturing to the empty booth in the back corner. I drop in the same seat as last time, slouching as far as socially acceptable. Derek drops heavily in the booth across from me.

"Why do these horrible things keep happening?" I whine, sliding back up as the waitress - Angie, her tag says - walks over with a pad in her hand. "Dr. Pepper," I tell her when she looks down at me expectantly.

"Coke," Derek mutters. She takes it down and goes on her way again, not speaking once. I cross my arms on the table and drop my head with a mock sob.

"The whole point of coming to Beacon Hills was to not die!" I pick my head up to see Derek frowning down at me. "This doesn't feel like not dying!" Derek just arches a brow at me, so I take a breath to calm myself. "Why aren't you freaking out more?" I demand as Angie brings our drinks and silverware. He waits for her to set them down and leave before speaking.

"Can't you see I'm completely engulfed in fear?" he deadpans. I narrow my eyes at him.

"Stop being stupid. This is serious."

He glares out the window. "I'm aware of how serious this is, Ares. More so than you are."

I drop my face in my hands and take a second to compose myself before straightening and looking up at him. "Okay. I'm cool. I'm fine." He looks like he wants to argue, but decides against it. "So what's the deal with this Alpha thing? What does it want?"

His head drops to the side. "You think I would know?"

"Ballpark estimate it, then, bro," I snap. "Is it going to hurt Scott? Is it going to turn more people? It just tried to kill us, so-" I stop short. I almost walked home. I almost walked home while that thing was stalking out the parking lot. My stomach rolls at the thought, my breath catching and my heart jumping. "And I wanted to walk home." I drop my head on the table, my forehead connecting with a solid _thump_. "Oh my god."

When I make no move to get up, Derek asks, "You okay?"

I hold up a finger. "Gimme a second to internalize this. Bottle it up somewhere deep inside. Conceal, don't feel." I close my eyes as I pick my head up, sitting straight, not touching the back of the booth. Inhaling deeply, I hold it for four second before exhaling for another four beats. I open my eyes to see Derek watching me, blank expression cracking to reveal concern. "I'm okay," I say evenly, running a hand through my hair, pulling the top portion back into a small ponytail and tying it loosely with a hair tie.

"That's not healthy," Derek mutters.

"I'm not a healthy person," I admit, dropping back into the seat. "Hasn't killed me yet, though," I add as Angie comes back with her pad. She arches a brow, no doubt catching what I had said, but doesn't say anything. Just looks at Derek.

"The cheeseburger with fries," he says, not even bothering to look at the menu. She jots it down before turning her attention to me.

I glance at the menu before turning to look up at her. "Give me the greasiest, nastiest burger you have that will literally stop my heart," I tell her. She gives me a flat look before turning away, writing in her pad as she goes. Derek is staring at me as if I grew a second head. "I plan on dying on my own terms, dude. Death by burger sounds a shit ton better than death by mauling."

Derek looks out the window as if he expects this Alpha to pop up and kill us. The way my luck has been lately, I can't say I'd be surprised.

"If it wanted us dead, it would have kept following the car," he says finally. I narrow my eyes at him.

"That doesn't make me feel any _better_!" I snap, leaning over the table.

"Well it should," he says sharply, shooting me a look. I cross my arms and lean back into my seat.

"Will it come after Scott?" I ask. He glances at me, expression hard to read. It's obvious that he doesn't want to answer. "Derek."

He huffs. "More likely than not." My stomach sinks. "If Scott's its only beta, it'll want him in its pack. Having a beta will make it stronger."

I clench my hands into fist, rest them on my lap. "I'm not letting that _thing_ have my little cousin," I tell him. "Not Scotty."

Derek narrows his eyes. "You try to stop it and it'll just kill you." I glare out the window. "Ares, don't think about doing anything stupid," he snaps when I refuse to look at him. "What're you going to do, huh?" he demands harshly, leaning over the table. "You don't know what that thing can do. You wouldn't stand a chance-"

"So you'll let that thing - that monster - have Scott?" I hiss at him. "He only just turned sixteen, and you want to throw him - literally - to the wolves?" I look up at him in disbelief. "He's just a kid, Derek."

"And you're not?" he counters incredulously.

"He isn't me, Derek! He deserves _better_!" I shout, slamming my hands down on the table. Derek pulls back in shock, eyes going wide. "He deserves to be normal and happy an-and to not turn into a rage monster every time someone annoys him or - god forbid - he and his girlfriend start making out! He's a good kid, even if he's a little stupid sometimes and self-centered others, but he's good and he doesn't fuckin' deserve this!" I take a shuddering breath and shit. My eyes water and I quickly wipe at them with my sleeve. "It's bullshit," I mutter.

Derek doesn't speak. Finally he heaves a heavy sigh. "Damn." I glance up at him. He looks like he's going to regret what he plans on saying next. "We need to find out who it is. It'll be easier to do anything if we know who it is."

"How do we do that?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "We'll figure something out." He huffs. "We'll probably die."

"He can't know," I decide. Derek looks at me incredulously. "He's already freaking out that he'll kill his girlfriend, I don't want him to have to worry about something out there looking to recruit him into the League of Evil."

"So you just want to leave him in the dark?" Judgement is thick in his voice. I ignore it.

"Sometimes it's better to not know these things," I say, watching as Angie the Waitress comes back with our food. She sets it down without a word and walks away. The burger in front of me looks like it could put down an Olympic athlete.

"Are you speaking from experience?" Derek asks. I glance up at him.

"I hoped I'd never have to speak from experience when it comes to Scott."

* * *

"We have a problem," Stiles says, throwing open my door and waltzing into my room as if he owns the place, Scott on his heels. I look up from my phone and narrow my eyes at the boys. Stiles drops into my computer chair as Scott throws himself down on my bed next to me.

"We will have a problem if you two don't stop barging in my room without warning," I warn them. "I could have been changing."

Scott turns his head at me, brows furrowing. "It's Sunday. You never change on Sundays."

I inhale deeply through my nose. "That's not the point."

"You're right, that's not the point!" Stiles exclaims, leaning forward in the chair. I glance over at Scott, but he stares at my hamper, eyes narrowing. Little creep. Knowing the sooner I listen to them, the sooner I can get back to trying to figure out what to do about this Alpha thing, I turn my attention to Stiles.

"Alright, lay it on me."

"So, my dad got a call last night after the game," Stiles says. "They got the test results back on the body. The hair they found on it was animal, not human."

I arch a brow at him. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

He lets out a groan, as if it literally hurts him to stoop down to my level and explain. "Derek's human, not animal. Derek being human means they let him go." I grip my phone, but Stiles doesn't seem to notice. Next to me, Scott sits up quickly, outright glaring at my hamper now. He stands, marches over to it. Stiles ignores him and continues. "Also, my dad got an ID on the body."

"Laura Hale," I say without thinking. "Derek's sister." Stiles narrows his eyes at me in suspicion as Scott reaches in my clothes basket and pulls out my hoodie.

"Weren't you wearing this last night?" he demands tightly. I look up at him with wide eyes, going for innocent. "Why does it smell like Derek?" I bring up a finger to stop him before he gets too angry.

"I might have run into him after the game yesterday-"

"Ares!"

"Dude, are you alright?" Stiles exclaims, jumping up.

"What? Yeah, we went and got food," I tell them. Scott stares down at me. Stiles narrows his eyes.

"You went and _got food_?" He rubs his head with his hand. "With Derek Hale? The murderer that killed his own sister and turned your cousin into a creature of the night, you went and got food with him?"

I drop my face into my hands. Conceal, don't feel, Ares. I take a breath before looking up at the boys. Both wear betrayed looks on their faces. "Okay. I'm only gonna say this once, so you better listen up." Stiles scoffs, crossing his arms and dropping back into the chair. "Derek did not turn Scott. Derek did not kill his sister. Derek is not the bad guy here."

"How do you know he didn't kill his sister?" Stiles demands. "Just because he told you doesn't make it true."

I narrow my eyes at him. "He couldn't have killed his sister anymore than I could kill Aaron or Alicia."

Stiles frowns. "Aren't your siblings horrible people?"

I glare at him. "My siblings are amazing people, Stiles Stilinski." He draws back and I go on. "The point is that no even semi-normal person could just go and kill their sibling." I shake my head. "Y'all are only children. I don't see you understanding. That being said, stop sending innocent people to jail for shit they didn't do."

"Whatever," Stiles mutters as my phone goes off, revealing a text from Derek.

"Speak of the devil," I say quietly, swiping it open.

Stiles' jaw drops. "You're texting him right now?" he demands, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Why must you fraternize with the enemy?"

I don't even bother trying to argue with him. Instead, I look up at Scott, who's looking down at my hoodie in his hand, expression hard. " _Mijo_ , you know I wouldn't have anything to do with him if I didn't think he was any good. You _know_ that," I tell him.

He doesn't react for a solid second, and for that second I can't help but think he's not going to believe me. He throws my hoodie back in the hamper and crosses his arms. "I still don't like him," he mutters.

I roll my eyes. "We'll work up to that, alright? For now, just trust me."

"Well, I think you're both being stupid," Stiles says.

"No one asked you, _pendejo_."

His hand shoots to his heart in mock pain. I throw my pillow at him and it hits him square in the face.

* * *

I stare down at my phone, taking advantage of Deaton's absence to check my texts. It takes a second for the words to make any sense. When they hit, they hit hard.

 **Human Puppy (3 new message)**

 _there was an attack at the school last night_  
 _i think it was me_  
 _ares what if it was me_  
(HP)  
 _Explain. Now._  
(A)  
 _had a dream last nite i hurt allison in the school bus. this morning the bus was torn up and bloody and they took a guy to the hospital. allisons fine_  
(HP)  
 _Shit. Shiit. I'm sure it wasn't you, kid. Or if it was…_  
 _Dude's alive, tho, right?_  
(A)  
 _ARES THIS IS SERIOUS_  
 _also yea hes alive_  
 _i think im going to dereks after work to see if he can help me remember_  
(HP)  
 _That's a great idea! You do that, I'll let him know to expect you. Gtg, Deats came back. It'll be fine. I have faith in you_  
(A)

* * *

"Scotty's gonna be late," I sing, wiping down the examination table as Deaton goes through boxes of some shipment or another. Medicine? Probably just more gloves. Dude has gloves everywhere. He glances over his shoulder at me, brow arched. "You should fire him."

"Your cousin is almost never late. It isn't going to kill him this once," he chides. I crinkle my nose as he goes on. "Besides, knowing him, he'll beat himself over it with unfounded guilt."

"You can't even pretend to fire him?" I ask, balling up the paper towel in my hand and shooting it into the trash. "Get it on video and post it on facebook." I pull out my phone and wave it around. Deaton shakes his head as the door is thrown open and in rushes Scott, backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Sorry," he says quickly, dropping his bag out of the way. "Sorry."

"It's with a heavy heart that I have to inform you that you're fired," I say melodramatically, clasping my hands together with a sigh. He shoots me a glare as he moves around the table.

"You're all of two minutes late," Deaton points out.

"Fifty bucks off your paycheck for every minute," I tell him. He looks up at me, making a face and shaking his head.

"I didn't want you to think I was slacking," he tells Deaton. I roll my eyes, moving to stand by my little cousin.

"Scott," Deaton starts, picking up his box and moving it under the table I just cleaned, "I guarantee you you're one of the least slacking kids in this town." I make a face as Scotty looks over at me smugly. His expression falls as Deaton goes on. "It would do you well to not taint it with petty sibling squabbling."

"Haha, he thinks you're petty." I reach over and ruffle his hair.

"Ares!" He slaps my hand away and brushes his hair out of his face. "You're one to talk." He grins up at me. "Honestly, the most insulting thing is that he thinks of you as my sister."

I grab at my heart in mock pain. "How could you?" Before he can answer, I have him in a headlock and rub my fist against his head.

"Ares!" He exclaims, pulling at my arm. Deaton glances up from his work at us, brows raised in amusement. "Ares, quit!"

The door opens and Scott and I freeze, our heads shooting up to see Sheriff Stilinski walking in, leading a black German Shepherd by a leash. He pauses at the door, taking off his sunglasses as Deaton breaks into a huge smile and moves for the dog.

"Hey! I see someone's ready to get their stitches out," he says cheerfully.

"Someone's about to get stitches," I say, giving Scott one last good noogie before he manages to break free.

"Hey, kids," Sheriff Stilinski greets, voice coated in amusement. "I'd ask if you were staying out of trouble, but I feel I know the answer to that already." I make a show of wipe my hands, clapping them as I do so before pulling out my phone from my pocket. "You coming in today, Ares?"

"Obs," I say, watching as Deaton picks up the dog and deposits him on the table. I nod to the folder in his hand. "What's that? Super secret evidence you probably shouldn't be bringing in here?"

"You're not cute," he says dryly. I smile up at him brightly as he brings up the folder and turns to Deaton. "Hey, listen, while I'm here, you mind taking a look at those pictures I was talking about? Sacramento still can't determine an animal." I look sharply at Scott, who busies himself by putting away the medicine from Deaton's box.

"I'm not exactly an expert," Deaton says, but he takes the folder anyway, pulling out the pictures. "This is the guy who was attacked on the bus?"

"Yeah, that's him. We found wolf hairs on Laura Hale's body," he states.

Scott steps forward. "Wolf?" Sheriff Stilinski looks over at him, brow raised. He moves to get a better look at the pictures. I move with him, because there's no way he gets to see if I don't. "I mean… I think I read somewhere that wolves haven't been in California for like sixty years." I look up at him, impressed.

"Ya hear that guys? He _read_."

He glares at me as Deaton speaks, not looking up from the picture. "True enough, but wolves are highly migratory. It could have wandered in from another state, driven by impulse or strong enough memory."

Scott looks up at Deaton. "Wolves have memories?"

"Longer term memories, yes. Associated with the primal drive." Scott swallows.

"That sounds… ominous," I say, leaning over Scott's shoulder to get a good look at the pictures. "Ohoho, dude got eaten, man." All three males look up at me, the judgement heavy in their eyes. "I mean, uh, _pobrecito_."

Deaton shakes his head, gesturing to the pictures. "See these marks?" He traces the cut on the man's face. "These are claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat, spinal cord, with its teeth."

Sheriff Stilinski frowns. "So what'd you think, it's a mountain lion?"

Deaton shakes his head. "I dunno." I frown, nudging Scott out of the way to get clear look. "A wolf could have chased down its prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles." Scott tenses next to me. "And then the throat."

"Yo, I knew a guy back home that got screwed up like this," I tell them. Again, the males turn their attention on me. "Some asshole my brother knew. He was casing out a house and didn't realize it had a dog. The family came home to see their dog just chewing at this dude. Blood everywhere." I sigh. "Good times."

"You're literally the worst person I know," Scott decides. I throw up my hands in defense as Sheriff Stilinski snorts, taking the pictures back from Deaton.

"He shouldn't have been trying to rob the house! Aaron told me there was a clear beware of dog sign. It's Darwinism, _mijo_. Some people are just too stupid to be alive."

Deaton gets to work on removing the stitches with scary fast accuracy. Scott watches on, no doubt filing away the technique. Kid's smart like that. Better learner by watching.

"Are you going straight back to the station?" I ask Sheriff Stilinski as he gets ready to leave once Deaton's done. He nods once.

"Yeah. Why?" He looks down at my suspiciously. I grin and fish my keys out of my pocket before disconnecting my pepper spray and stuffing it in the front pocket of my hoodie.

"Sweet, I'm riding with you," I declare, handing the keys to a wide eyed Scott. "Fill up the tank, put your bike in the back. You're picking me up or I'm stabbing you in the face," I tell him before glancing over at the Sheriff and Doc, who are walking out the door. "Don't leave me, I'll be right there." Stilinski shakes his head in defeat. Once the door is shut behind them, I turn my attention to Scott. "You gonna go see Derek after work?"

He drops his head. "I guess. I don't want to, but I'm hanging out with Allison tomorrow night and I don't want to hurt her. Ever."

I chew at my thumb nail. "Do you really think it was you?"

"I… who else would it have been?" He looks up at me. My stomach twists at the idea that the Alpha might have done it. If Scotty notices my discomfort, he doesn't mention it. "The dream was so real, Ares. When I saw the bus…" He shakes his head. "I have to know."

I sigh. "Alright. Be careful. Don't do anything stupid." I pause, look at the keys he still has in his hands. "Your mom probably isn't going to let you have the car, huh?" He shakes his head.

"I was going to bribe her with food. Think it'll work?" I look at him flatly and his face falls before he looks up at me hopefully. Kid's got his puppy eyes on full force. I let out an annoyed breath.

"Try bribing her with food first, alright? If that doesn't work, then…"

He grins. "Thank you! You're the best, I owe you."

"Ares! Come on, before I change my mind!" Sheriff Stilinski calls from the front. I give one last warning look to Scott.

"Fill the tank," I remind him as I rush out the door. "And get your mom dinner!" Sheriff Stilinski is standing by the front door, waiting with the patience of a man whose teenage son has ADHD.

"Bye, Doc!" I call over my shoulder as I follow Stilinski out.

"Have a good day, Ares," he says with a smile. "Sheriff."

Once we're outside, I hop into the passenger side of his cruiser as he gets the dog into the back. I send off a quick text to Derek before he gets in the car.

 _Yo, Scotty's gonna go see you about the attack at school. BE NICE TO HIM_

I shove my phone in my pocket as Stilinski gets in the car, turning it on and putting on his seatbelt.

"So, nothing new on Laura Hale?" I ask casually as he maneuvers the car out of the lot. He frowns at me. "Just making conversation," I add quickly. He sighs.

"Just that it's an animal attack. Most likely the same that attacked the man last night." He pauses. "You know, Stiles mentioned something last night."

"He would," I mutter.

"You hanging around Derek Hale at all, kid?" he asks. I sink into the seat, feeling very much like a kid about to get grounded. He sighs. "I know I can't tell you who you can and can't hang out with." I look up at him as he goes on. "Just be careful around him, alright? He used to be such a good kid."

"He's still a good guy," I say. "He's just been shit on by life a lot lately." Stilinski glances down at me before nodding.

"Well. So long as you're okay." He pauses. "You know you can call me if anything happens, right?"

I snort. "Lord, you're such a dad, man." He frowns, only for his expression to soften at my next words. "It's cool. Nice. And you'll be the first person I call if Derek turns into an asshole." I grin up at him. "You can arrest him again."

Stilinski sighs in exasperation. "You're not cute."

"I'm adorable."

* * *

 **Welp, that was that. Leave a review and let me know what you thought! Thanks to those that have already faved/followed/reviewed!  
**

1\. _Pobrecito_ \- Poor thing


	8. Chapter 8

The fact that Stiles is in the passenger side of my Turtle when Scott comes to get me is alarming. Extremely alarming. I throw open the door and cross my arms, arching a brow at him. He throws his arms up.

"Do I have to?" he whines.

"You can always walk," I counter lightly. He groans, but jumps out, barely untangling himself from the seatbelt first. I step back so he can move the front seat forward and crawl into the back.

"I hate that this car is a two door," he mutters, falling into the seat. Scott and I both look back at him incredulously.

"Dude. The Jeep is a two door," Scott reminds him as I throw the seat back and jump in, pulling on my seatbelt.

"Hey, don't bring Roscoe into this," he snaps as Scott shifts the car in gear carefully as I watch to make sure he doesn't end up stalling. "And I'm never in the back of my jeep. The two doors doesn't affect me."

" _Chillon_ ," I accuse before turning my attention to Scott. "How'd it go at Derek's?"

Scott scowls. "He's just as easy-going and friendly as I remember him to be," he mutters. I don't even bother to argue with him. "But he did help. I guess." He adds that last bit begrudgingly. And that's good. Progress. I'm a sucker for progress. Nothing like putting away differences to deal with a greater evil.

"Sweet, what'd he say?"

"He said to go back and let my senses do the remembering for me."

"Are you kidding me?" I drop my head back on the rest. I take back every nice thing I've said about Derek Hale. "There's supposed to be a shit ton of cops there!"

Stiles leans forward. "Not right now there isn't." He and Scott both look at me expectantly.

"I hate both of you," I grumble, pulling out my phone to tell Derek just how stupid his idea is. "Scott, keep your eyes on the road and pay attention to the Turtle."

"At least we came and got you first," Stiles says. "We coulda just not told you at all."

"You think I wouldn't have found out?" I ask flatly, and Stiles sinks back into his seat. "So we're really going to the school right now?"

"Do you or do you not want to know whether or not Scott actually went after this guy?"

I cross my arms. "Let's just get this over with."

The school, as Stiles had predicted, is empty. Not a cop in sight. I sigh, realizing that they're actually gonna do this. Scott eases in front of the gate and we both jump out. I leave the door open for Stiles, who crawls over the center of the seats and almost falls on his face getting out. The boys move to the gate, arguing about Batman and Robin as I follow them.

"You got this?" I ask Scott once he's convinced Stiles to stay on this side of the gate. He nods, swallowing thickly. I drop a hand on his shoulder. "I have complete faith in you. Now go make sure you didn't almost kill this guy."

Scott takes a breath before quickly climbing the fence and dropping on the other side. Stiles watches with a pout, arms crossed tightly.

"Why does he get to be Batman?" he demands. I roll my head to look at him. "I'm always stuck as Robin these days, it's no fair!"

I roll my eyes. "Come on, dude, don't think of it that way. Think of it as your training before becoming Nightwing." He glances over at me.

"Nightwing?"

"Probably my favorite of the Bat Family, if I'm honest," I tell him lightly before motioning to the car. "Let's keep watch from the car. Makes for an easier escape if things go to shit."

He follows, crawling into the back without having to be told this time. "You really think I'm gonna be Nightwing?" I smile, look back at him.

"You'll be the best Nightwing. You'll be the disco mullet Nightwing."

He narrows his eyes at me. "I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

"Good."

Scott takes his sweet ol' time sniffing out the bus, so I turn the Turtle back on, but leave the lights off. As I'm searching through the radio stations for something worth listening, Stiles smacks my arm.

"Ares! People!" I look up and shit. Lights. Flashlights. Plural. Shit. I slam my hand on the horn, hold it for a second before releasing and doing it again.

"Come on, Scott," I mutter as Stiles keeps beating up my seats. "Stiles, fuckin' chill, he's coming!" I snap, noticing Scott's silhouette rush out of the bus. I drop the Turtle in reverse and leave the lights off, keeping my eyes on Scott as he jumps on a car and fuckin' flips over the fence like some sort of reject Power Ranger. Lands in a crouch and everything.

He jumps in the car and shouts, "Go! GO!"

He didn't have to tell me twice.

I slam on the gas, shooting backwards before shifting into the proper gear and doing a quick 180 with practiced ease. Stiles and Scott are clutching at whatever they can get their hands on as I shoot out of there, flicking on the headlights as I go.

"Man, that was great," I say with a grin. "Been entirely too long since I've had to man a getaway."

"I hate you," Stiles groans from the back, and is that jealousy I sense in his voice? "This car shouldn't even be able to move like that."

"Any car can move like that," I say lightly. "You just gotta know how to work it." Ignoring his continued whines, I turn my attention to Scott. "So? _Qué paso_?"

"Did it work?" Stiles demands. "Do you remember?"

"I was there," he says, but instead of sounding upset, he quickly goes on. "Some of the blood there was mine."

"So you did attack him," Stiles says from the back, and I'm not sure how I feel about how flippant he is about it. One hand, Stiles would probably find a way to hide all evidence, which is great, everyone needs that one friend. On the other hand, Stiles is _that_ friend.

"No!" Scott throws am offended look back at him. "I saw glowing eyes in the back of the bus." My breath catches in my throat, my heart picking up as he goes on. "They weren't mine. It was Derek."

"Wha-"

"It wasn't Derek," I snap, cutting off Stiles. "Stop trying to pin everything on him."

"There you go again, jumping to his defense!" Stiles exclaims. "What's your deal with him, Ares?"

I glare at him through the rear view. "Fuck off, Stilinski. It wasn't him."

Stiles narrows his eyes at me before turning his attention to Scott. "What about the driver?"

"I was actually trying to protect him."

Stiles face warps in confusion. "Wait, what? Why would Derek help you remember that he attacked the driver?"

"It wasn't Derek!" Both boys turn their full attention to me. Scott's glaring at me, expression hard. It doesn't suit him. His face is still too soft.

"Stiles is right, Ares, why are you always protecting him?"

"Because he _didn't_ do it, _Mardre de Dios_ , how many fucking times do I gotta tell you!"

"Just because you think so doesn't-" Stiles starts, but I cut him off again.

"What color were the eyes?"

"What?" Scott frowns.

" _Los ojos_ , Scott, the glowing eyes, what color were they?" I demand, slowing down at the yellow traffic light ahead.

"I… I dunno…" he looks up as the light turns red and gasps. "Red! They were red."

The air rushes from my lungs and I close my eyes, trying to keep from breaking. The Alpha. He actually came for Scott.

"Derek has blue eyes when he shifts," I say, keeping my voice even. "Blue, not red."

"Wait, how do you know that?" Stiles demands.

"Because he showed me," I snap. "Scott's first full moon, when Derek got me out of the woods. He started rambling about the bite being a gift, so I kinda put him in a headlock and didn't let him out until he admitted that he wasn't the one that bit Scott."

They both stared at me in shock.

"You… you put him in a headlock?!" Scott exclaims. "Ares, he could have killed you!"

"But he didn't!" I shout back. "Scott, seriously, you keep painting him as a crazed killer, but he's literally never hurt me. For fuck's sake, he gave me a ride when he probably should have made me walk after you two assholes sent him to jail!"

They fall in an uncomfortable silence. It's Stiles that breaks it.

"How'd you get him in a headlock?"

"Faith, trust, and pixie dust," I drawl.

They don't bother trying to get the truth out of me.

* * *

Scott's on his stupid date and he stole my car. At least that's what we're telling Melissa if she finds out I gave it to him for the night. And because I'm a human female with basic human female functions, it was only a matter of time before the cravings hit. And they hit hard. With no means to get what I want, I figure it wouldn't hurt to try to get a ride.

 _What are you doing right now this very second_  
(A)  
 _… Why?_  
(D)  
 _I need ice cream or I'm going to straight up die._  
(A)  
 _Last I checked you had a car._  
(D)  
 _Scotty stole it for his date_  
(A)  
 _Tough_  
(D)  
 _Dude. Derek. Come on. Be a bro._  
 _Derek._  
 _Derek_  
 _Derk_  
 _Der_  
 _Drek_  
 _Stiles won't take me come on dude_  
 _ddddddddddeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeekkkkkk_  
(A)  
 _GOD FINE I'LL BE THERE IN TEN MINS_  
(D)

Victory, as usual, is sweet.

* * *

"I appreciate you," I tell Derek as he pulls out of the twenty/four drive in. He rolls his eyes as I go on after shoving a spoonful of cold chocolate Oreo goodness into my mouth. "An' i's nah jus' cuza da ice 'ream." I swallow thickly. "I mean it, man. You're great. Scott and Stiles might think you're still a serial killer, but I know," I tell him, tapping my nose. "You're a big ole softy."

"Right." He glances over at me. "How'd it go last night? When he went to check out the bus?"

I make a face, and it's only partly from the brain freeze. "Bright idea, that," I mutter before going on. "He was there, but he was trying to help the guy. The glowy eyes he saw doing the actual attacking were red."

"The alpha."

"Scott was convinced it was you. I told him you had the blue thing going on, but I dunno if he's gonna buy it." I drop my head back. " _Mijo_ 's entirely too stubborn."

Derek snorts. "You're one to talk."

"I'd flick this ice cream at you if I didn't plan on destroying it myself," I warn, then nod at his gas gauge. "You need gas, dude."

"Don't call me dude," he says, signalling to pull into the empty little gas station.

"Sure, bro," I say with a grin, lowering the window as he turns off the car. He narrows his eyes at me before throwing open the door and getting out, closing the door a bit too forcefully. I roll my eyes before pulling myself out of the window, al la _Dukes of Hazzard_ and sitting on the door, using the top as a table for my ice cream. Not exactly comfortable, mind you, but well worth the look Derek shoots my way.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demands. I open my mouth-full of ice cream at this time-at him and snort my laughter at the look on his face. "You disgust me."

"Just get the gas, loser."

He shakes his head, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket and sliding it into the machine. I make a show of looking away when he enters his PIN, because while once upon a time it might have been something I might have paid attention to, I'm a changed woman now. Also I think he'd notice if I stole his card and used it on nothing but Ben & Jerry's.

"You realize we're going to have to tell him about the alpha soon," Derek says. I stare down at my ice cream.

"Yeah. Just… Not until we have to."

He nods once, and kudos to him for not arguing.

As he starts to fill the Camaro, I note the devastating lack of salty to go with my sweet. "Der," I say, setting down my ice cream on the hood of the car. He looks up and I hold my arm out to him. "Help me out. I want Chex Mix."

"Why do you need Chex Mix?" he demands, not moving. "You just got ice cream."

"Because I forgot fries and the pretzels in the black bag are the best," I tell him, waving my hand at him impatiently. "Come on, before it all melts!"

He huffs in what he wants to come across as annoyed, but I know. Leaving the nozzle to continue pumping, he moves to my side and wraps an arm around my waist while I drop mine across his shoulders. Which. Whoa, Derek Hale. You go, Derek Hale, Four for you.

"Don't see why you can't get out like a normal person," he mutters, pulling me out, catching my legs in his other arm before setting me down. I smile up at him and pat his chest before turning and walking away.

"You're my favorite," I say over my shoulder as I walk to the store. "The bestest!"

"Get me a Coke!" he calls out as I pull open the door. I bring up a thumb in acknowledgement.

Aside from the tired looking guy behind the counter, the gas station is empty. I raise my hand in way of greeting the employee, who offers a half-hearted greeting in return. Heading to the back for Derek's Coke, I pass the pastry aisle, glancing at the goods. A familiar purple packaging catches my eyes, and I stop short, doing a double take and nearly squealing.

They have Chokis. The kind with chocolate filling.

I snatch up five packages before thinking better of it and continue on my way. "If I could begin to be half of what you think of me," I sing softly under my breath, trailing a hand over the fridge doors as I search for the cokes. "I could do about anything, I could even learn how to love."

Finally finding the fridge I want, I throw open the door and grab Derek's drink, and after a second of debate I grab a Dr Pepper for myself for later.

"When I see the way you act, wondering when I'm coming back, I could do about anything. I could even learn how to love like you." Juggling the drinks and my cookies, I find the chip aisle and search for my Chex Mix. "I always thought I might be bad and now I'm sure that it's true, 'cause I think you're so good and I'm nothing like you."

When I manage to grab the whole reason I left Derek outside without dropping anything else - which, pretty proud of myself, not gonna lie - I quickly make my way to the front counter and dump my goods in front of the employee. He stares down at everything and then looks up at me with an arched brow. I cross my arms at him, daring him to say something. He figures it's in his best interest to keep his mouth shut and starts ringing up the food.

"You need a bag?"

I nod, pulling my wallet out of my pocket. "Please," I say, swiping my card and entering my pin. Once the transaction is done, I grab the bag the guy gives me and head for the door, pausing when I notice the two SUVs parked around the Camaro. The red one looks familiar, but I can't put a name to it. A man that most definitely isn't Derek is washing the Camaro's windshield.

I walk out, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. As I get closer, I can hear the man speaking, and see a number of other men surrounding the car.

"You can actually look through your windshield now. I'm sure that makes everything so much clearer."

"Wow, that's so nice of you!" I say brightly, catching everyone's attention. The man that had been washing the windshield steps back and looks back at me, brow raised. Derek looks up, something akin to panic flashing in his eyes. "We're not paying you for it though," I go on, acting as if I don't know a threat when I walk in on one. "But do you think you can change the oil too?" I laugh at my joke, walking up and stopping in front of Derek, who's entirely too tense. "Got your soda," I tell him, handing him the bag. "There's cookies too if you want." I snatch my ice cream from where it still sits and look in the cup. "Sweet, not melted." I pause, bringing up a spoonful as I lean against the passenger door. "So what's with the party?"

"We were just catching up," the man says lightly, glancing over my head to Derek. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Derek give a small shake of his head. The man smiles tightly and nods. "Well, we should be off."

"Dri'e sa'e!" I say through a mouth full of ice cream as he and his men get back in their trucks. I wait until they're well on their way before turning to face Derek. "Okay, what was that?" I demand. "Where those hunters?"

Derek glares after the disappearing SUVs before nodding tightly. "He doesn't know you know," he says finally, looking down at me. "That was Chris Argent."

" _That's_ Allison's dad?" I shake my head. "How the hell did that happen?"

Despite what just happened, a smile plays at Derek's lips. "You should see her mom. She's even scarier."

"I think I'd rather not." I pause and offer a spoon of ice cream to him. "You okay? You looked kinda worried there for a second."

He blinks once, his face going blank for a second. "Fine." He waves a hand, not taking the ice cream, and I shrug. More for me. "Why did you get all this?" he asks, bringing up the bag in confusion.

"They had the kind with the chocolate filling," I tell him matter of factly. "Now give me my pretzels."

* * *

When you're reading an especially fucked up nosleep about Park Rangers and the shenanigans they get into, you don't want to hear your aunt screaming in the room next to your own.

" _Tia_!" I throw open the door and flick on the lights, one arm extended with my pepper spray at hand, pointed at the figure on the bed. The same figure Melissa has a bat aimed at. "Stiles, what the hell, you creep!" I snap, dropping my arm once I recognize him. Melissa stares at the pepper spray still in my hands, then up at me.

"I like having you around," she says as Scott walks in the room, looking as if nothing was wrong. "Will you please tell your friend to use the front door?" she tells him.

Scott frowns, glancing between everyone that's in his room. "We lock the front door. He wouldn't be able to get in."

"Yeah, exactly. And, by the way, do either of you care that there's a police enforced curfew?" she demands, gesturing with the bat in her hand. Scott and Stiles answer in unison.

"No."

"No," Melissa repeats. "Alright then." She throws the bat onto the bed. "You know what, that's about enough parenting for me for one night." She turns and gives two peace signs as she walks out. "Good night."

"'Night, _Tia_!" I call after her, flopping on the bed next to Stiles. "You two are gonna give someone a heart attack."

"You're one to talk," Scott mutters before looking down at a stricken looking Stiles. He frowns, grabbing his computer chair and pulling it out in front of Stiles. "What?"

Stiles sighs. "My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago, it's the bus driver." Scott leans in and shit. I feel like I know where this is going. "He said he succumbed to his wounds."

I drop my head back "Shit."

"Succumbed?" Scott asks, confusion lacing his tone.

"Scott, he's dead."

Scott's face falls. He leans back, processing Stiles' words. Once they make sense to him, his face tightens in rage.

"Scott, what're you doing?" I demand when he stands up. He doesn't answer, instead rushes out the door. "God." I drop my face in my hands, and it's like all the weight of the past weeks are dropping on my all at once. "Why do these horrible things keep happening?"

"We probably kicked puppies in a past life," Stiles says, his voice lacking its usual spark. "Are you gonna go make sure he doesn't do anything stupid?"

"I should." I glance over at Stiles. "Idiot probably went to go accuse Derek."

Stiles frowns. "You still think he didn't do it?"

I heave a sigh and pull my phone out of my pocket, sending off a quick text before answering. "Derek didn't do it. Everything you and Scott think he did, he didn't. He didn't bite Scott. He didn't kill his sister. He didn't attack the driver. Scott doesn't want to hear it from me, and I'm tired of having to repeat myself. If it takes getting his ass handed to him by Derek for Scott to finally get it through his thick skull, then I'm not getting in the middle of it."

Stiles gapes at me. "You're just going to let him go then?"

"You gotta make a mistake if you're gonna learn from it." I look up at Stiles and sigh at the betrayed look on his face. "Stiles, the alpha wants Scott in its pack. If he's gonna fight it, then he needs help I can't give him. He needs Derek."

"So you believe Derek when he says he isn't the alpha?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I take a breath. "Derek and I saw the alpha after your game Saturday. It was hanging around the parking lot." I close my eyes, remember those red eyes. "Thank god Derek has a fast car, else we wouldn't be here." I look at Stiles, who's staring back with wide eyes. "It's big and mean and if I ever come across that thing alone, I won't be coming back alive."

"Why didn't you tell us?!" Stiles exclaims.

"Because sometimes it's better to not know when the big bad wolf is coming to get you, Stiles," I snap. "Scott doesn't need this. He doesn't, but it's happening and I can't protect him from it like I want to, but I can keep him from worrying about it." I pause. "I hoped to keep him from worrying about it."

I stand, drop my hand on Stiles' head, rubbing the buzzed cut.

"Go home. Scotty'll be fine. Derek won't hurt him too bad."

"How do you know?" Stiles demands, ducking away from my hand. I smile tiredly and hold up my phone.

"Because I asked nicely."

* * *

 **Tada! The next couple of weeks will be full of evil finals and last minute papers so there's probably going to be a lack of chapters until it's done and over with. So here's this one to hold you over until then. Thanks to those new followers and favoriters (that's not a word, but whatevs), and shoutout to those that have already been around. You're all the best. Leave a review to let me know how you like it so far!**

Translations of the Spanish to English kind

1\. _Chillon -_ crybaby  
2\. _Qué paso -_ what happened?  
3\. _Los ojos_ \- the eyes


	9. Chapter 9

The irritation hits when Scott comes barging into my room after having his ass handed to him by Derek. His shirt is ripped, a little bloody, but the wound isn't there anymore. Still, I make a mental note to tell Derek that maybe next time don't make Scotty bleed. He's dirty and sweaty and he almost sounds like he's having an attack he's so angry.

"You knew?!" he snaps, stalking forward. I glance up at him, not bothering to sit up. "You knew about the Alpha and you didn't tell me?!"

"Your mom's asleep," I say. "Keep your voice down."

"I don't have to keep my voice down! You knew there was another wolf out there!" Scott's seething, and his eyes keep flashing yellow. Welp. So much for any of this going well. I take a breath and sit up straight.

"Scott, I'm gonna be real with you," I tell him, keeping my voice calm and neutral, because he's Delgado, and Delgados tend to not take being yelled at lightly. "I've told you over and over again that Derek isn't the one you gotta fight. You didn't want to listen to me. Now, I'm not in the mood to deal with your melodrama." His face warps in anger. "I get that you don't like Derek. Fine. Whatever. But I asked you to trust me, and you didn't. That's on you."

"You want me to trust you when you aren't telling me things!"

I stand and Scott's glare wavers as he realizes his mistake and takes a step back. "Like you told me you smelled blood at Derek's house? Like you told me you went and dug up his fuckin' sister? Like you told me you sent him to jail?" I cross the room, forcing Scott back and out of my room. "Don't give me shit when you did the exact same thing." I lean back, try to reel in the sudden burst of anger. "Scotty, there's a _fucking_ monster werewolf after you now, you get that, don't you?" I ask him. He doesn't answer, just looks away. "It's _killed people_. And you're barely in control of yourself as it is, do you really think you could have handled that on top of what you're going through right now?"

"You still should have told me," he says.

"And what would you have done?" I wrap my arms around my middle. "Scott, we're out of our depth right now," I tell him quietly. "I don't know what I'm doing. You don't know what you're doing. Stiles can only google so much before it ends up being all bullshit. We need Derek, even though you don't like him."

"We can figure it out without him," Scott says, but there isn't much conviction in his voice.

"No, _mijo_. I don't really think we can." I shake my head, everything starting to sink in. Derek being threatened, the driver dying, the Alpha. "Go clean up and go to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

He looks like he wants to argue, but he must see how tired I feel, because he sighs and turns to leave. He pauses in the hallway, and I move to the doorway to catch his next words. "Ares... I still trust you, but you can't hide things from me like Derek does." I sigh, dropping my head on the doorway.

" _Lo siento, mijo_."

"And..." He trails off, like he doesn't want to say what he's thinking. "About Derek. Just be careful with him."

Kid's a Delgado through and through. "I'm always careful, little cousin. Now go to bed."

I close the door before he can add anything else and rest my head on it, waiting to hear his footsteps move toward his room. _"Be careful with him_ _."_ There was something in his voice, something layered in that I couldn't decipher, like he knows something he isn't telling me. I shake my head. Maybe I'm just overthinking it.

The irritation hit when Scott came barging in my room for answers.

The cramps hit three hours later.

* * *

Once a month, for four days, my life is a living hell. During these four days, everyone knows to leave me alone. My phone stays off, my door stays closed, and Melissa gets me free samples of the extra strength pain reliever from the hospital. If I'm lucky, I sleep through the whole thing. Well. When I'm not at work. Because work still happens.

The pounding on the door echoes through my head, slamming the sides of my head, reminding me all too much of that hangover I suffered just before coming up to California. Bless older siblings and their _suero_ , and curse the fact they aren't here with me right now.

I whimper, curl my arms over my head and bury myself deeper in my blankets. I only just got home.

"Ares!" Stiles cries through the door. "Ares, I know I'm not supposed to bother you right now, but this is an emergency!" He doesn't wait for an answer, judging by how I can hear my door creak open slowly. "Ares?"

I take a second to sort through the pros and cons of killing him.

Pro: I can go back to sleep.

Con: Sheriff Stilinski will kill me.

Pro: I can suffer in peace.

Con: Scott will never speak to me again.

Con: I'll have to deal with Scott by myself.

Shit.

"I swear to fuckin' god, Stiles, you better be fuckin' dying," I growl, forcing myself up and facing the door. Stiles has his head poked through the small slit in the door he made. His face goes pale when he sees me, which, okay. Way to make me feel good about myself. " _Qué quieres_?"

"Okay, so I'm not dying," Stiles says carefully. I glare at him and he winces before going on. "He is." He opens the door and lo and behold. Derek Hale in my hallway looking like someone shot him up with entirely too much drugs using a dirty syringe.

" _Madres de Dios_! Derek!" I exclaim, jumping up, for a second forgetting my own ailment. "Stiles, what the fuck happened?!"

"I got shot," Derek says through gritted teeth. I stare up at them, trying to make sense of their words.

"Are you fuckin' kidding me?"

"I didn't know where else to take him!" Stiles exclaims, gesturing wildly. "He was making the jeep smell like death!"

Derek doesn't reply, though he does growl at Stiles. I take that as a good sign as I try to make sense of what's unfolding in front of me.

"Shit. Shitshitshit." I run my hands through my hair, pulling it out of my face and taking a deep breath. "Melissa's gonna be home soon." I look up at Stiles hopefully. "Maybe she can fix this?"

Stiles shakes his head furiously. "No, absolutely not, Melissa cannot know about Scott ever, at all, especially like this."

"Why not?" I snap, and Stiles takes a step back. Derek, near death that he is, arches a brow.

"Scott will literally kill you if his mom finds out about him!"

"This bullet will literally kill Derek!" I exclaim, gesturing to where Derek is leaning on my door frame. It's on his good arm, which is great, because no blood on the house. That'd suck. Melissa would ask questions.

Stiles makes a face. "What's the problem with that?"

I throw my head back. Close my eyes and take a deep breath, counting down to ten as I exhale. Killing this Stilinksi would lead to death at the hands of the older Stilinski. Remember that, Ares. "Stiles. If you're not going to help, then just fuckin' leave." I look at him and he swallows thickly. "But I'd appreciate it if you weren't an asshole and stayed." I look to Derek. Pale, ghastly, druggy looking Derek. "How do we fix this?"

"I need the same kind of bullet I was shot with. Scott's at Argent's trying to get it."

"Argent shot you?!"

"One of them did."

The temptation to just curl up and cry is strong. So very strong. "How's that going?"

"He isn't answering my texts, and when he does, it's just 'need more time, making out with Allison.'" Stiles pauses. "Okay, not the last part, but that's what it means."

"He would," I mutter, turning to my bad and searching through my covers for my phone. "We can't stay here," I say, turning it on once I found it. "Deaton closes up in a couple hours. We can go there before Melissa gets home. Text Scott again. See where the hell he is."

Stiles nods, pulls out his phone. I look up at Derek.

"You really dying?"

He shakes his head once. "Not yet."

"Not yet." I nod. "Okay. That's good."

It's not good. It's so very not good it almost makes me want to cry. But I'll take what I can get.

* * *

Derek rides in the Turtle with me when we go to the animal clinic. Stiles refused to have him in his jeep again, and I didn't feel like arguing. The entire way, my lower stomach feels like Freddy Krueger is scrapping it out from the inside. I forgot to take medicine before leaving. Because that's my life.

"You still alive?" I ask, pulling up to the clinic. Derek gives me a flat look, impressive considering his predicament. He looks like a very unamused zombie. "Forgive me for asking," I mutter, shutting off the car and throwing open the door as Stiles pulls up two spots away.

"So what's the plan?" Stiles asks, pulling open Derek's door and helping him out.

"Wait here for Scott," I say through gritted teeth, waiting for a particularly bad cramp to pass.

"Damn, you look about as bad as Derek," Stiles says, and I'm not sure I was supposed to hear it, because he ducks his head when I glare at him.

"I'm fine," I snap. "Maybe focus on the one that's actually dying?"

With that, I leave Stiles to deal with Derek and jump out of the Turtle, go around back to find the spare key Deaton leaves lying around. Once we're in, Stiles drops Derek on a pile of dog food.

"Have you told Scott where we are?" I ask, struggling to keep the stress out of my voice as I head for the examination room. Because Derek looks like absolute shit. Like, he might actually die.

"He says Allison's aunt made him stay for dinner," Stiles says when he manages to drag Derek in after me.

"Since when the hell does she have a _tia_?" Stiles shrugs. "Look, whatever, just tell him to hurry up."

"What do you think I've been doing?!"

"Just fucking tell him again, Stiles!" I shout. His face falls for a second before his expression hardens and he pulls out his phone.

"Fine. I'll tell him to call me."

I don't bother answering him, though I do feel bad for losing my cool on him. It's not his fault Derek got shot and is bleeding black blood and has gross black veins and- I need to stop before I work myself into a panic attack.

"If we get this bullet, you'll be fine, right?" I ask, curling my arms around my stomach as I lean on the table next to Derek. He glances down at me.

"Should be. But it needs to be soon." He pauses. "Are you okay?"

I snort, a poor attempt to hide my fear. "I'm not the one with the bullet in my arm. I just need to take a Midol and I'll be fine."

"Right." He doesn't seem convinced, considering how he stares down at my shaking hands. I ball them up into fists and cross my arms, tucking them away.

"Hey, does Nordic Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?" Stiles asks suddenly, looking up from his phone.

"It's a rare form of wolfsbane," Derek explains. "He needs to bring me the bullet."

"Why?" Stiles asks, glancing back down at his phone.

"Because I'm gonna die without it," Derek says flatly. Well, as flatly as one can through labored breathing. And really, that isn't something I need to hear. Not on top of this bullshit period and hormone imbalance and cramps and fucking _emotions_.

"Well, that's just fan-fucking-tastic," I mutter darkly. "The best. Stiles, isn't this just great?"

Stiles looks at me with wide, nervous eyes. "Not really. Scott probably isn't even actively trying to get out of this dinner."

And he has a point. Because Scott always liked Allison better than Derek. Not that he'd actively try to kill Derek. But still. Shit. Derek is gonna die. "Are you sure we can't just, I dunno, boil some arnica, soak your arm in the tea, and call it good?" I ask, pacing. "I mean, we have some at home, have a whole bag, it'd be faster than waiting for-"

"Ares, now is not the time for your Mexican voodoo witchcraft," Stiles snaps, and I draw back in offense.

"Um, excuse you, first of all, it's called b _rujería_ , second of all, using arnica isn't _that_ , it's common sense, and lastly, if you have any other ideas, please, share with the class, we'd love to hear them."

Stiles blinks owlishly, looking between me and Derek. Who's dying. "I got nothing. Unless you know how to get Scott here right now this instant."

I look up at him sharply, a fragmented idea taking hold and warping into something like an idea - good or bad, I'm not sure yet and I'm not in the mood to question it - takes hold before I can think better of it. Stiles glances up at me and does a double take before a grin slowly spreads across his face.

"Tell Scott I'm calling him. ell him to take the call where they can hear me. Tell him to play along. He's leaving that house _now_."

The grin doesn't leave Stiles face as he looks down at his phone, tapping out the message. "Oh man, Derek, you are in for a treat," Stiles says brightly. "At least if you die, you get to see the glory that is full rage Ares first."

Derek looks between Stiles and me, expression laced with confusion. I narrow my eyes at Stiles before pulling out my phone and searching through my contacts. It doesn't take long to find **Human Puppy** , and when I press call and bring the phone to my ear, Stiles claps in giddiness.

It rings four times before Scott picks up.

"Hey, I can't really-"

" _Donde estás_?" I demand.

"I'm at Allison's, you knew that," he says quickly. "Ares, I need to go-"

" _Si te cuelgas el teléfono voy a matarte_!" I hiss, and if I lay on the stereotypical loud Mexican voice, no one should blame me. "You're supposed to pick me up some Midol! I've been texting you all day!"

Stiles snorts his laughter.

"I know, but Allison's aunt invited me to stay for dinner!"

"Oh, so you're girlfriend's _tia_ is more important than me? Get home now, or so help me-"

"Ares, she wants me to stay for dessert!"

I take a breath. "Scott, my uterus doesn't care who invited you to stay for dessert. I can literally feel my insides being stripped away. So you have fifteen minutes to get home or there won't be enough left of you to bring home!" I shout into the phone. Stiles and Derek stare at me with wide eyes as I wait for Scott's answer.

"I'll be there in ten minutes," he says faintly.

"Thank you." I end the call and look up at the guys. Stiles takes a step back. Derek shifts his weight, but doesn't move. "He'll be here in ten minutes," I say calmly, pulling my hair out of its ponytail and retying it tighter. "You'll be good for ten minutes, right?"

Derek nods once. "Ten minutes. I'll live that long."

"Good." I clap my hands, because well done, Ares, you go girl. Way to save Derek's life. "Then I'm leaving. Derek, don't die before Scott gets here. Stiles-"

"You're leaving me with him?!" Stile exclaims, gesturing to Derek, who glowers at the kid.

"I am bleeding from my nether regions, Stiles," I tell him. He cringes as I go on. "I'm going to go home. I'm going to internalize everything that's happened today, because honestly, this is all very traumatizing, and if either of you bug me for anything other than ice cream before I'm done, I. Will. Bleed. On. You," I growl, taking a step forward with every word. Stiles grabs Derek's not hurt arm and pulls him back with him, both of them watching me in something akin to horror.

"Have fun with that," Stiles says weakly as I push past him to leave.

"Just keep Derek alive," I snap, throwing open the door and letting it slam shut behind me.

It isn't until I get in my car that everything hits. Derek almost died. Derek is on the verge of dying. There's a psychotic werewolf trying to recruit my little cousin. Hunters are trying to kill Scott and Derek. Scott's girlfriend is a hunter. Maybe.

I take a shuddering breath and lean forward, resting my head on the wheel for a second. Try to get myself together.

"Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry," I whisper to myself. "Cry at home."

I pick my head up, wipe at my eyes, and turn on the car.

Seriously. Fuck Beacon Hills.

* * *

Every now and then, the Higher Being takes pity on you for having such a shitty month and decides to throw you a bone when you get home from work. Or, in this case, a very much alive Derek Hale waiting on the front porch.

"Well, it's good to see that you're not dead," I drawl, walking up the steps. He rolls his eyes as I go on. "You look better."

And he does. The color is back in his face and his eyes have that 'everything in the world is horrible' shine thing going on. He's in the same jacket, but it's clean now, so points for him. He even has his hair in that frohawk he always wears.

"I could say the same for you."

"It was a bad day, but I wasn't the one dying," I remind him, moving past him to open the door.

"Well, I'm not going to drop dead anytime soon anymore," he says. "No matter how much your cousin might want me to."

My head drops to the side as I turn to face him, standing in the now open door.. "I can't even really argue with you there." I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. "What's up?"

He brings up his hand, and there's a plastic bag hanging from it. "I brought this. For you." I look at him curiously and he drops his gaze, finding our shoes very interesting as he goes on. "Stiles said the only reason I'm not dead right now is because of 'Full Rage Ares,'" he says in way of explanation.

I throw my head back and groan. "God, why would you bring that back up?" I whine, and when I look back up at Derek, he's smiling. A full, real smile and okay wow. He has a nice smile. Like sunshine and rainbows and not like a serial killer. It's adorable and my life mission is now to see it as many times as possible.

"It was impressive. I can threaten people with murder all I want, but it's not nearly as effective as threatening to bleed on someone."

"Noo!" I drop my face in my hands. "I can't be held accountable for what I said while on my period. I wasn't mentally sound!" I peek up at him through my fingers. "Why aren't you completely disgusted right now?"

He gives me a flat look. "I've heard worse from Laura, Ares."

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to find a lie. "So what'd you bring me?" I ask, holding my hand out and making grabby motions. He rolls his eyes and hands it over. I open the bag and my eyes go wide at the goods inside. "You got me chocolate ice cream?" I look up at him with full Steven Universe eyes and he ducks his head. "And Oreos and cookie dough!"

"You didn't let me die last night, so…" Oh lord, he's turning red. I cock my head to the side and smile at him brightly.

"Derek Hale, do you appreciate me?" I sing.

He huffs, rolling his eyes. "Shut up."

"I appreciate you too," I tell him solemnly, then grin and hold up the bag. "Come on, we're making slutty brownies!" Before he can argue, I grab his hand and throw open the door, pulling him in after me.

"Slutty what?" Derek demands as I lead him to the kitchen. I look back at him, eyes wide in horror.

"Slutty brownies! Have you never had those? It's like, edible diabetes, it's the best," I assure him. He stares down at me looking as if he realized the mistake in gifting me sugary goods.

"Regret getting you anything," he mutters when I let go of his hand to stop by the fridge, dropping the ice cream in the freezer and grabbing two eggs from the fridge.

"Whatever. Go wash your hands," I order, dropping the bag on the counter and pulling out the cookies and dough before checking to make sure the oven is empty and turning it on. Imagine my surprise when I first moved up here and found that Melissa actually had the cabinet space for her pots and pans and didn't store them in the stove. It was revolutionary, honestly. Makes baking so much easier. Derek takes off his jacket and drops it on a chair and rolls up his sleeves before turning on the sink. I glance over at his arm as I pull out a brownie pan from one of the cupboards. There isn't so much as a scar left.

"Them werewolf powers are pretty handy, huh," I say, hip checking him out of the way once he's done so that I could get my own hands clean. He growls, but honestly it sounds more like a puppy than a werewolf. I snort, and Derek, absolute child that he is, flicks the water on his hands at me. "Open the cookie dough, Fangface," I tell him, wiping my face with my arm.

"I thought we were making brownies," he says, but does as I ask. I roll my head to look at him.

" _Slutty_ brownies, Derek." I turn off the water and flick my hands at him, revenge reasons. "The best kind of brownies. Used to make them at Sonya's in high school." After drying my hands, I nod to the dough and pan. "Spread the dough on the bottom, then layer the Oreos on top. I'll start the brownie batter," I tell him, pulling out a large bowl and measuring cups before raiding the pantry for the brownies and veggie oil.

"This sounds incredibly unhealthy."

"It is. That's what makes it so good." I pause, dumping the mix into the bowl along with the oil, eggs, and water. "So did you ever figure out who shot you?" His expression is closed off when I glance up at him. "Oh, come on. I'm just gonna end up finding out eventually."

He sighs, "I have a pretty good idea of who it was."

"And…?" I prod, grabbing a whisk from the silverware drawer and getting to work with the mix.

"It might have been Allison's aunt."

"That… that's unfortunate." I slow my stirring as I think. "Is that whole family crazy?"

"Probably," Derek drawls.

"Okay, but what about the mom? I haven't heard anything shady about Allison's mom."

Derek puts down the Oreo in his hand and turns to face me. "Ares. In hunting families, it's the Matriarch that's in charge of everything."

I throw my head back and groan. "Oh my _gawd_ , why can't anyone in this town be normal?!"

"I'm normal." Derek and I whirl around to see Melissa standing at the entryway of the kitchen. She cocks her head to the side. "Well, normal enough." She nods to Derek. "Who're you and why does Ares trust you enough to bring you home?"

My head drops. "Oh my god."

Derek clears his throat. "I'm Derek Hale."

"He's my drug dealer," I add brightly, slapping Derek's chest lightly. Melissa arches a brow and Derek looks down at me in horror.

"Your _drug dealer_?"

"He brought ice cream?"

Melissa's face brightens with a smile and she claps her hands. "In that case, he can come over anytime and seel all the drugs he wants." She jerks a thumb behind her. "I'm working late, so lock the door and make sure Scott doesn't eat junk. Also, save me some brownies, please." She brings her hands up together at the "please." I shoot her finger pistols.

"Can do, _tia mia_."

She nods once before turning to leave. "Be good!" she calls over her shoulder before disappearing behind the door. I let out a breath and turn to face Derek.

"You didn't notice her coming in?" I demand. He shrugs.

"Wasn't paying attention."

"You're the worst wolf ever," I accuse. "You… you failwolf."

" _Failwolf_?"

"Because you fail at being a wolf, I mean, it's pretty self explanatory." I glance up at him and grin. He huffs - there's a pun in there somewhere - and shakes his head.

"You're not being cute," he says dryly. I look up at him flatly and channel my inner Dean Winchester.

"Oh, please, you think I'm adorable."

He doesn't argue. Just takes the bowl of batter from my hands and pours it over the cookies. But I think the important thing here is that he didn't argue. Thus cementing the fact that I am, in fact, adorable.

* * *

 **And that, my friends, was "Magic Bullet" featuring Ares Delgado. Thanks to those new faves/followers/reviews, you're all the best!**

Translations:  
1\. _Lo siento_ \- I'm sorry  
2\. _Suero -_ juice, "serum", to combat dehydration. Like Suero Oraland Pedialyte, etc. A+ for hangovers  
3\. _Qué quieres? -_ What do you want?  
4\. _Donde estás?_ \- Where are you?  
5\. _Si te cuelgas el teléfono voy a matarte!_ \- If you hang up this phone I'm going to kill you!  
6\. _mia -_ mine, so "my aunt"


	10. Chapter 10

Waiting on brownies to bake is among the hardest things I've ever had to do. And that's including accepting that my little cousin is now a werewolf and hiding it from his mom. Because that's still a thing we're doing, apparently.

"You want something to drink?" I ask Derek as I open the fridge door. "We got water, milk-Ooo, Melissa got juice!" I glance back at Derek. He sits in a chair at the table, watching me rummage through the fridge with a bored expression. "I also had Dr Pepper stashed in the pantry where Scott wasn't supposed to find them because he's the devil and drinks them all."

Derek shakes his head. "You realize that's a lost cause now, right?"

I nod mournfully. "He sniffed them out last week. It was horrible."

Derek snorts. "Just give me a water." I snatch two waters from the fridge and drop on in front of him before plopping down in the seat next to him where the bowl and spoon used to mix the batter is already waiting for me. He nods his thanks, which, whatever, I'll take it. "Scott's not going to like that I'm hanging around," he says suddenly after taking a sip of his water.

"He can deal," I say, pulling up a leg and tucking it under my other knee. "Besides, his reaction will be hilarious."

"His reaction might be dangerous," Derek argues. "Scott really doesn't like me, Ares."

"Well, I do," I counter, resting my elbow on the table and propping my chin in my hand. "And Melissa already gave you the okay, so it's not like Scott has a say about it anyway." I pause. "Besides, since when do you care about what Scott has to say?" I ask.

"I don't," he says flatly.

I nod. "Exactly, you don't."

"But if he gets mad enough he might shift," Derek goes on to say as if I didn't say anything. I roll my eyes at him.

" _No te preocupes_. I can take care of myself." He doesn't looked even remotely convinced. "Look, if he starts getting a little hairy around the edges, I'll just spray him with the water hose. We used to do that to the strays in my old neighborhood when they were acting up."

"Your old neighborhood sounds idyllic."

I stick my tongue out at him. "Why do you think I'm here, _tonto_? Obviously not for the wildlife." Derek makes a face, his eyebrows doing that thing when he judges people. "Whatever. Let's talk about something productive."

"Like…?"

"Like what happened after I left last night?" I offer. "You're alive, so obviously Scott got there in time."

"He wasn't too happy about it," Derek mutters. I crinkle my nose.

"You guys really need to work on that. But not the point. It's storytime. Go!" I point my finger at his nose, sticking the spoon in my mouth and waiting for Derek to start his story. His face goes blank for a split second.

"Scott dropped the bullet when he got there. It rolled under one of the counters."

"Whah' ah i'io'," I say around the spoon before popping it out. Derek clears his throat as I go on. "Wait, why did you even need that thing?"

"I needed the monkshood that was inside of it." He pauses. "I had to burn it and put it in the wound."

"Are you kidding me?" His expression is all the answer I need. He has this one scowl that makes it very clear how stupid he thinks your questions are. "That's… Kinda masochistic, ain't it?"

"I like to think of it as survival," he says dryly.

"So would some SM die hards." His face warps in disgust as I smile up at him sweetly. "So you went and pulled some weird _Fifty Shades_ shit. Then what? Everything was okay?"

"Scott wanted to go to the Argents to get me to leave him alone," he says dryly. My head falls with a thump on table. "Apparently they're nicer than I am."

My head flies up and I narrow my eyes at him in confusion. "They fucking _shot_ you!"

"I'm aware."

"Has he never seen _Into the Woods_?" I exclaim, throwing my hands up. "There's literally a whole musical number about how nice isn't always good and good isn't always nice!" My head drops back and I look up to the Higher Being. "He get's the stupid from his dad's side of the family," I declare, picking my head back up to see Derek's lips quirk at the corner.

"I'm sure," he drawls. I crinkle my nose at him.

"Asshole. What happened after he threw a bitch fit?"

Derek's expression goes blank, neutral. "I took him to see my Uncle Peter."

The name sounds familiar, but the fact that Derek took Scott to see his family before me beats any attempt to remember where I've heard it from. "Why haven't I met him yet?" I stick out my bottom lip. "I thought we were bros."

He levels me with a flat look. "Peter's in the coma ward in the hospital."

My stomach drops. Right. Peter Hale. Only survivor of the fire. Fuck. "Oh. Shit, I'm sorry, that was really insensitive of me." I duck my head. "Sorry."

"It's fine, Ares," he says. When I look up at him, he arches his brows reassuringly. I didn't think that was possible for eyebrows to do, but I'm coming to the conclusion that Derek Hale has _magical_ eyebrows.

"So the Argents were the one's that… that hurt your _tio_?" I ask hesitantly.

Derek's face darkens. "They're the only ones that could have. They were the only ones who knew about us."

"Oh." I look down at the bowl of batter left. Derek arches a brow when I push over to him. "You're not allergic like dogs are, are you?"

"I'm a werewolf, not a dog."

"That's not an answer. You already had a near death experience yesterday," I remind him. "I don't want a repeat."

He rolls his eyes. "I think I'll live." To prove his point, he swipes at the inside of the bowl and eats the batter on his finger.

"You're not cute," I say, throwing his earlier words back at him. He grins, and it's all teeth.

"I have it on good authority that I'm actually very attractive."

I snort. "Calm down there, Shallow Hal. Not all of us can make careers as underwear models." He shakes his head, but he looks like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "You know, actually I can see you on the cover of a young adult paranormal romance novel. Something really cliche and a blatant rip off of something else. It'll be a movie in two years." I hold my hands up and try to imagine said cover. "Starring Derek Hale as the dark and mysterious, yet gold hearted werewolf male protagonist Fenrir Wolfgang."

"His name is literally Wolf Wolf."

I ignore him and go on. "With Arianna Grande as Celine Luna, the naive teenage girl that thinks she can tame the monster inside."

"Moon moon?"

"Their love was forbidden. This summer, don't miss: _Werewolf Diaries_."

"You're horrible," Derek states.

I throw my head back and laugh. "Dude, it'll be great. It'll be a best seller. And if we write it right, then we'll also be teaching young girls everywhere that relationships don't have to revolve around sex and secrets and abusive behavior." I cock my head to the side. "Looking at you, _Fifty Shades_."

"You need to stop."

I grin up at him. "I'm just messing. You'd be in a TV show."

"I hate you."

"Obviously not, since you got me food."

"Never again."

"Oh, come on. You need some cheerful vibes, dude. We're living in a horror movie. We're allowed some fun before our untimely demise," I remind him.

"Right."

"Smile, Derek Hale. We're still alive."

He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth quirks up just a bit before he schools his expression.

* * *

"Oh, good, you're alive!" Sonya says brightly, leaning back from the screen and grinning. "Warren told me how you called him and started crying because of your cramps last night."

I drop my head to my chest. "I misdialed. I was supposed to be calling you."

"I know." she pauses. "But you really gotta give him props for staying on the line for you as long as he did."

"I think I might have traumatized him." Next to me, my phone vibrates. I open the message and snort. Derek finally saw the shitpost I sent him earlier.

 **Derek  
** _You're the worst human. Stop texting me._

"You did." Her tone is gleeful. "It was glorious." She props her chin in her hands. "Hey, what ever happened to that serial killer you met in the woods a while ago?"

"Serial killer?" I glanced up from my phone, pausing in the middle of my reply. "Oh! Derek, yeah, what about him?" I finish off my text and send it off.

 _I am the best human.  
_ (A)

Sonya makes a noise in the back of her throat and I look up at her to make sure she's okay. "You're on first name basis with the serial killer you met in the woods?! Do you guys hang out?!"

I bring up a finger. "Okay, one, he isn't a serial killer, he's a huge dork in a leather jacket. Two, yeah, I guess we hang out." I bring up the small plate with the brownie I managed to hide away from Scott. "We made brownies today."

She squeals. "You invited a boy over, Ares, I'm so proud of you!" She claps. "I'd ask if you did anything devious, but I know how you are with that stuff."

"That you do, sister. And it's not like that anyway. We're just friends. I send him shitty tumblr posts and he threatens to never bring me food aga-"

"He brings you food?"

"It was his turn to pay," I tell her. Her eyes go wide before her expression warps into one I've learned to fear. Sonya thinking is never a good thing.

"Say, what's his name again?"

I narrow my eyes at her, notice how she clicks something on her screen and has her fingers at the ready on the keyboard.

"You're not going to google him. That's creepy."

"I wasn't going to google him." She pauses. "I was going to facebook him."

"You're horrible."

"I need to know if he's hot!" I make a face. "Ares, come on! I refuse to be the girl who's best friend ran away to California and hooked up with someone who isn't even that hot!"

I drop my face in my hands and just breathe. Let it be known that Sonya is rather picky about these kinds of things. When I look back up, she's staring at me expectantly. "He's attractive."

"Is he my type? Can I call dibs for when I can afford to go visit you?" I narrow my eyes at her and she holds her hands up in defense. "Okay, geez, no going after your man. I'll make sure to tell Warren." I roll my eyes.

"He isn't my man."

She waves a dismissive hand and changes the subject. "Hey, there's a game you need to get. You collect cats, it's great. You'll love it."

She knows me so well.

* * *

" _My old man is a bad ma_ -"

"Que te vas una ves m-"

" _Yo te di todo mi amor y_ -"

I drop my phone in the cup holder at the next song, some top KPOP hit that Aaron and Alicia must never know is on my playlist. The level of dishonor it would bring down on the family would ruin us.

Flashing lights at the movie rental store make my stomach sink, more so than the ominous text that Derek had sent not fifteen minutes earlier.

"Dammit," I mutter, pulling up a next to the other cars. There's already a crowd forming, and the deputies are doing the best they can to keep them back. I jump out of the Turtle, locking it behind me before joining the crowd. It isn't too big, but big enough so that I can push to the front without being noticed. There's an ambulance with two kids in the back and… yup, that's Stiles standing by the Sheriff's cruiser.

"Stiles!" I call out as the Sheriff talks to the boy by the ambulance, a frat looking kid who's name is probably Chad. Stiles whirls around when he hears his name and his eyes go wide when he sees me in the crowd. He glances back at his dad before ducking around the cruiser and meeting me by the crowd barrier.

"What are you doing here?" he demands, grabbing my arm and pulling me past Deputy Paulson, who just rolls his eyes at us, and to the car. I shake my sleeves over my hands and cross my arms as he looks down at my PJ bottoms and boot slippers-new as of Scott's last paycheck. "Why are you in your pjs?" His eyes go wide and he leans in. "Are you even wearing a bra right now?!"

My head falls back. "Stiles, you creep!" I smack his arm before tucking my arms across my chest again. "I was about to go to bed when Derek texted. And then Scotty started acting all antsy." I glance at the Sheriff and the kid that's yelling at him about wanting to go home. "If your dad sees me, I couldn't sleep and piratebay was acting up, so here I am."

Stiles frowns. "Derek texted you?" I nod once, looking around. Dude had to be around somewhere with Scott. "What'd he say?"

I shake my head. "Dude was pretty vague about it. Said the Alpha was out again."

Stiles' head rolls to the side. "And you believed him?"

"Even if I didn't, Scott felt something too," I tell him. Stiles runs his hand over his buzzed hair, looking past me. His eyes go wide and he throws out his hand, pointing past his dad.

"Whoa! Is that a dead body!?"

Two EMTs bring a stretcher out of the store. There's a white sheet over the form on it, and an arm is hanging over the edge, swaying with the movement. Which, wow, morbid. The crowd erupts in chatter and Sheriff Stilinski throws a glare at Stiles, who ducks back into the cruiser, shutting the door and leaving me standing alone. Traitor. The Sheriff's face warps into confusion at seeing me, only to be replaced with a very done look when I wave weakly at him.

"Everybody back up, back up," the Sheriff says, pushing everyone back as the body is led to another ambulance. Once he's done, he drops by the cruiser and levels me with a flat look.

"And what, may I ask, are you doing here?" he demands. "You didn't even work today."

"Piratebay was down," I tell him.

"Piratebay."

I crinkle my nose at his tone. "It's this website that lets you-"

"I know what it is, Ares." He shakes his head. "You shouldn't even be over here."

"Stiles let me over." I nod over to the two kids behind the ambulance. "Are they okay?"

The Sheriff sighs. "They just found a dead person. They're probably going to need counseling." He pauses, glancing back at them. "Or really good drugs, considering who their parents are."

The boy's ear must start burning, because he looks up from the redhead-the same that all but threatened Scott at his game-and narrows his eyes at us.

"Was it… was it another animal attack?" I ask hesitantly. Sheriff Stilinski shakes his head, looking very tired.

"We don't know right now." His expression hardens. "Even if we did, you know I can't tell you. You're hanging around my kid too much, he's rubbing his bad habits off on you."

"Hey!" Stiles squawks from inside the cruiser. I roll my eyes.

"I have enough bad habits on my own." I unfold my arms and hold out my hand for him to see. "See my nails? Bite them all the time."

"Go home, Ares," Sheriff Stilinski drawls, motioning to Deputy Paulson to come over. I throw my head back and groan. "I mean it, young lady." He points a finger at my nose. "Straight home. And I want you texting Stiles when you get there." He turns to Pauly. "Make sure she gets to her car."

My shoulders slump and I throw my head my head back. "Oh my god, you're such a dad!"

"Don't make me ground you," he warns.

"Legal adult, Sheriff." I stick my arm out for Deputy Paulson to link his through mine. "Come on, Pauly. Escort me to my car," I say in my best snob voice.

Pauly snorts and the Sheriff mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like smartass.

"You know, you probably shouldn't antagonize him like that," Pauly says as he leads me through the crowd to my car. I shrug.

"He loves me. I'm his second honorary Mexican child." I look up at the Deputy. "You working tomorrow?" He nods as I fish my keys out of my pocket. "I'll bring you a brownie if you tell me what happens here after I leave."

I grin up at him and he shakes his head. "Why did you get hired?"

"I do really good interviews. So deal?"

"Make it two brownies and I'll consider it."

"I can't promise two, but I'll get you one big one," I tell him, peeking into the Turtle's backseat as I unlock the front door. "And you can't tell the Sheriff. Or Stiles. I'll never hear the end of it."

"Don't forget to text the kid when you get home, Ares," Pauly says as I hop in the front seat.

"Take notes for me!"

He closes the door for me as I turn on the car and doesn't walk away until I'm pulling out of the parking lot.

Good ole Pauly. I should get him a fruit basket sometime.

* * *

Driving in the preserve at night is just as terrifying as driving in one of the sketchier neighborhoods back home where the wannabe gangbangers like to hang out. If not more. At least back home I knew where the creeps liked to hang out.

I manage to find the Hale House without getting killed by a skinwalker or rogue Alpha. Scott is standing on the porch with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. Derek is standing at the door, looking like he wants nothing more than to push the kid off the steps. I shake my head and throw the Turtle in park. Scott jumps down the steps as I step out of the car, not bothering to turn it off or close the door behind me.

" _Qué pasó_?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest as I meet Scott in front of the headlights. " _Por qué tienes esa cara_?"

Scott throws his arm back and gestures at Derek. "Tell him I have a life outside of this crap!"

I frown in confusion, but look up past my cousin to Derek. "Scott has a life outside of this crap."

"Not anymore, he doesn't," Derek snaps, and okay, someone's being crabby. "He has a week until the full moon."

I nod. "Okay, fair point."

Scott's face screws up in the ultimate betrayed expression. "He broke my hand!" Derek rolls his head back and throws a glare at Scott.

"Derek!" I throw my arms up. "I said no to using pain as an anchor!"

"It's the easiest and fastest way for him to learn," Derek counters calmly. "It'll keep him human." He pauses. "Besides, I barely touched him."

"My fingers were _crushed_!"

My head falls back. "Oh my god! Will you two stop fighting for, like, five seconds!" They both fall silent. Scott has his arms crossed with what looks like a pout on his face. Derek scowls at the trees as if they personally offended him. "Derek, dude, as much as you want to, you are not allowed to beat Scott up!" Derek looks very much like he wants to argue, but closes his mouth when I raise a finger at him. " _Que no_." I turn back to Scott. "What's this shit about having a life?"

"I am failing chemistry!" Scott exclaims, throwing his head back. "I have to be at the parent teacher conference tomorrow night and he wants me to be out here!"

My brows furrow. "Oh." I look back up at Derek. "Scott isn't failing high school over this," I say sternly. "He's going to that conference."

Derek glares down at me for a second before dropping down the steps. "Ares, do you not understand that there is something out there wanting to kill him?"

"Yeah, his chemistry teacher, if Stiles is telling the truth." My head drops to the side. "Dude, what's, like, two hours a day for him to do his homework?"

"That's what I was trying to tell him!" Scott exclaims. "I have a life! If I fail I can't play lacrosse!"

Derek lets out a low growl and I look back at Scott flatly. "Not helping, _mijo_." I turn back to Derek. "Come on. You still went to school when you were being wolfy, didn't you?" Derek glares at Scott over my head. I snap my fingers under his nose and his blinks in surprise. "Hey, _aqui_. He needs to go to school. He needs time to study."

"I need time to be with Allison!"

Derek and I both turn to glare at Scott.

"Scott. Car. Now."

Scott glares at both at us before turning on his heels and stomping to the Turtle like the child he is.

"You know he'll still be able to hear us, right?" Derek drawls as the door slams shut.

"Yeah, but this way he can't say something stupid and just make you mad," I tell him lightly, rolling back on my heels. "Seriously though, you needa give him time for school stuff, Derek."

He shakes his head. "I get you want to help him, but he needs to focus on the alpha. He's the only one that can get its attention."

"Alarming point, but how about this counter argument." I narrow my eyes at him. "If your anal training is the reason my little cousin has to repeat his sophomore year, I will have Deaton neuter you."

Derek stares down at me with narrowed eyes. Behind us, Scott's laughter echoes from the car.

"Scott, you'll be right there next to him if you don't start listening to him!" I shout over my shoulder. His laughter immediately dies off. I look back up at Derek. "Two hours a day to study and do homework, and then he's yours to torture as you see fit," I offer.

"Are you sure that's the deal you want to make?" Derek asks. His grin is nothing if not feral. My inner Sonya tells me that it's _super hot, Ares, post it on instagram_. My inner Sonya needs to shut up.

"I want him to pass, but I want him alive too, dude." I shift my foot, the rock I had been standing on finally getting too annoying to ignore. "So the alpha went after some random guy this time?"

Derek shakes his head in annoyance. "I dunno. It's too early to see a pattern."

"Maybe they just hates people working minimum wage jobs." I pause, the weight of my words sinking in. "Well, I'm fucked."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't see it coming after you just because of your job."

"You don't know that!" I pull my arms tighter around me. "Anyway, I'm bribing Pauly to tell me what he finds out tomorrow. I'll let you know if it's anything helpful."

Derek's face warps in an expression that's gone before I can place it. "The deputy."

I grin. "You saw him! He's great. He works the front desk with me sometimes and if he's in a good mood and I complain enough, he'll buy me candy." I pause, smiling. Pauly really is the best. "Anyway, he's easy to bribe. His wife is trying to put him on a diet, so it's been awhile since he's been allowed sweets."

Derek looks almost relieved, so I put it down as him being happy we're getting some inside info.

"Can we go now!?" Scott calls from the car. "I have a quiz tomorrow and I still need to study!"

I roll my eyes. "I guess I'm leaving then. Want me to bring you food before I go to work tomorrow?"

"It's fine."

"I'll bring you something healthy."

"I don't need-"

"Shut up and let me feed you." I turn on my heels. "And I swear to god, if I have to come out here one more time at night wearing my pjs, I'm murdering both of you," I warn both Scott and Derek. "I don't care if you're werewolves. I've seen enough shitty horror movies, I can do it if I wanted to."

I might have to make Sonya and Warren help, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there.

* * *

 **Merry _super_ late Christmas/Happy Holidays/New Year! Hope everyone had good breaks and holidays! Welcome to new followers, thanks to those who reviewed. Keep those coming, because they're great and I really appreciate them. In case anyone is curious, the songs Ares listens to are "Off to the Races" by Lana Del Rey, "Habla Blah Blah" by Gloria Trevi, and "Si Una Vez" by Selena.  
**

 _Kudos to those who knows what game Sonya is talking about.  
_

Translations

1 No te preocupes - Don't worry  
2Por qué tienes esa cara? - Literally "Why do you have that face?" (Why are you upset, pretty much)


	11. Chapter 11

With the dogs walked, the kittens played with, and the one random raccoon being kenneled while his owner is on vacation distracted with his shiny toy, I have some thirty minutes to chill and do nothing until Deaton lets me go. Meaning it's time to catch up on my reading. It's stupid, but I'm hoping at least something kinda good happens after the Red Wedding.

Because the universe hates me, this is when Stiles decides to call me.

"Your idiot cousin isn't here," he huffs in irritation in place of a greeting. I make a face. The kid seriously needs to get lessons in manners.

"And by here you mean…?"

"School! He went off with Allison halfway through the day because it's her birthday or something."

I snap my book shut and straighten. " _Qué_?"

"I called him and he totally hung up on me! Lydia isn't at school either, Jackson is all sorts of freaked out, and even if he wasn't I couldn't talk to him. I think I'm gonna try to talk to Lydia once I get out of here."

"You mean to tell me Scott just went and ditched? He's failing, like, all of his classes!"

"You do realize someone is dead and two teenagers are traumatized, right?" Stiles says. "A little tact, Ares, please."

I roll my eyes. " Oh, you're one to talk. Those the kids that saw the attack, then?"

"Yeah. Look, do you think maybe you can - I dunno - talk to the Satan Spawn and see if he has any ideas?"

I make a face. "Satan Spawn being…?"

"Derek! I don't like him, but he has a better idea of what to expect than any of us and he likes you. At least he doesn't threaten you all that much," he amends.

I let out a sigh. "I'll see what I can do, but he's about as green as we are when it comes to serial killer monsters." The door to the examination room opens and Deaton walks out, papers in his hands. "I gotta go. Don't be stupid."

I hang up before he can say anything, stuffing my phone in my pocket and smiling up at the Doc. He arches a brow.

"I'm not going to ask."

"It's probably for the best."

He holds out the papers in his hands. "How about you put this information in the computer for me, and then you're free to go."

"Sweet." I take the papers from his hands. Deaton turns to head back with the animals again, and before I can even process what's coming out of my mouth I say, "Yo, Doc, you've been here forever, right?" He stops at the door, turning to face me again. He has a brow arched, so I rush to finish. "In Beacon Hills, I mean."

He nods. "Yes. My family has been here for a very long time." He pauses. "Why do you ask?"

I hesitate, try to find the best way to ask. "Has… has anything like what happened last night and with the bus driver ever happened before?" I ask. "Like, the crazy animal attacks?"

Deaton's expression softened with understanding. "Oh. Well, with the Preserve right here, it's almost expected for a mountain lion to get aggressive every now and then when too many people pass through their territory."

"The guy last night wasn't anywhere near the preserve though," I say, pretending to study the papers in my hands. "Neither was the bus driver."

"No, they weren't." Something in Deaton's tone makes me look up. His expression is hard to read. When he notices me staring, he offers a small smile. "Don't worry too much about it, Ares."

"Alright."

He leaves it at that. It does little to make me feel any better.

* * *

"Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how opposed are you to-oh my god you have a tattoo!" I exclaim, walking into the glorious sight that is shirtless Derek Hale doing pull ups. Sonya and Warren are gonna be so jealous, it's not even funny. "Since when do you have a tattoo?"

Derek drops and turns to face me, brow raised and face slightly flushed and yup. So jealous. "I wasn't aware we were sharing that kind of information yet," he drawls.

"Well we are _now_." I gesture to him in all his nasty sweat covered glory. "I've seen you half naked now. This is a huge step in our relationship." I look up at him with wide eyes and clutch at my imaginary pearls. "I'm not ready for this kind of commitment!"

"Well, there goes my plans of a romantic proposal later," he says flatly.

I throw my head back in my laughter. "You're a dork. What are you doing, anyway? We're getting food."

"I never agreed to that," Derek reminds me. I roll my eyes as he goes on. "Besides, I just started my work out."

I glance around, taking in the smoke ruined everything that is the inside of the Hale House. This is actually the first time I've been in here, and it's… I might need to make him move into somewhere that's much more stable. "You can skip one workout. You don't have anything to worry about right now. Your abs are…" I don't finish, instead picking up my hand and waving the A-OK sign at him. He snorts his laughter. "And what kinda loser works out without any music?"

"I'm a loser now?"

"Oh, honey, you've always been a loser." I rock back on my heels. "Come on, let's go get food! I didn't eat lunch earlier and I'm not getting a dinner break at work today because Tara is a horrible human being and isn't coming in tonight because she went and got sick." His look of defiance wavers. "I'm paying anyway. You literally just have to sit there and look mean and scary to keep away the creeps."

"Really?"

"Go change," I say with a dismissive wave of my hand. "I'm gonna wait right here," I tell him, plopping down on the first step of the stairs and pulling out my phone. The blue notification light blinks at me as Derek shakes his head and disappears to hopefully change.

 **BFF5L (1 new message)**

 _so Elliot is in one of my classes this semester, have I told you about that?  
he asked about you  
should I tell him you have a hot serial killer boyfriend?  
_(B)

I blink down at the message. It's like she _knows_ what I was just talking to Derek about.

 _Are you serious, why is he asking about me?  
Did he not get the message when I put a taser to his dick?!  
_(A)  
 _he still totally wants to hook up with you, i guess  
or he's plotting to get revenge, that's also a possibility  
_ _warren and I've told him to fuck off  
_ (B)

 _I love you 3  
_ (A)  
 _I know. you should still let me tell him you have a boyfriend that can kick his ass. what's his last name, I'll find his facebook and show him off around here  
_ (B)  
 _The love has died  
_ (A)

"Hey, if you ever get a friend request from a brown girl named Sonya Langston, I need you to block her," I call back to Derek. "Because I might have let slip you look like a serial killer sometimes and she wants to know if you're hot and maybe use you to scare an old boyfriend away."

"What are you going on about?" Derek asks, reappearing back in the foyer. I glance up at him, doing a double take of him as he pulls on his leather jacket. He literally looks like he's ready for a _Vogue_ photo op. "That's not fair," I mutter, holding my hand out for him to pull me up. He frowns and grabs my hand.

"What's not fair?" he asks, hauling me up as if it's nothing. I gesture to him.

"All that. I need at least an hour to look not disgusting after a workout, and even then it's questionable." I pull out my keys and twirl them by the ring as I push open the door and walk out, Derek following.

"It's a natural talent," he says. "You either have it or you don't."

I crinkle my nose at him as I unlock the passenger side door and throw it open for Derek. "Behold the Turtle and all its glory!"

"Beautiful," he deadpans.

"Ain't she?" I grin up at Derek before going around to my side and jumping in once the door was open. "So where we going?

* * *

"What happened to healthy?" Derek asks. I bring up my middle finger at him as I dip a fry into my chocolate milkshake. He snorts his laughter, leaning back in the booth and shaking his head. "You're horrible." Angie the Waitress-because she's always working, it seems-sees the gesture and scowls. I drop my hand and duck my head.

"Don't judge me. I ran this morning, I'm good."

He arches a brow. "You ran?"

I make a face at him. "Don't look so shocked, bro, it's rude." He holds his hands up in defense, but doesn't look too convinced. "You're not the only one with a workout routine. Scott and Melissa told me about how the track is open to the public so long as it isn't school hours or a meet, so I go there in the morning. It's great. No one is ever there, so I can blast 'Eye of the Tiger' and not get judged."

Derek frowns, all good humor gone. "And did you forget that there's a rogue Alpha running around?" he demands quietly, glancing around the diner to make sure no one heard him. I drop my head back.

"Der-"

"I'm serious, you're just going by yourself?"

"I take my pepper spray," I say sullenly, crossing my arms and slouching in the seat. "And it's not like I've died yet."

"Yet." He shakes his head. "Can't believe you sometimes."

"The important thing is that I'm not getting fat," I say matter of factly, patting my stomach lightly. I have, like, five pounds that forever haunt me. Probably not the best idea to be eating all this junk, but whatever. I'm coming to learn that I can live with five extra pounds, even if Elisa couldn't.

"The important thing is for you to stay _alive_."

I cock my head to the side at his tone. "Derek Hale, do you care?" I tease.

He glares at me. "Shut up and eat your food." I roll my eyes.

"Not that I don't appreciate your concern, but you can suck a dick if you think I'm giving up my morning runs," I tell him. "It's the only normal thing I have left in the world. You can even come with if you're so worried about it, I'm always there by 5:45, only on weekdays because the weekend is a weekend for a reason." I pull a leg up and cross it under the other. "So what'd you do today?" I ask conversationally. "Chase any rabbits?"

He gives me a flat look. "Dog jokes getting old, Ares."

I make a face. "Terrorize any teenagers, then? Since you seem so good at that."

"Not unless Jackson counts," he says causally. I narrow my eyes at him, only for them to widen when I realize he's being serious.

"No wonder Stiles said he was acting all weirded out!"

"If it makes you feel any better, we know he didn't see anything now," Derek says lightly before taking a bite of his burger. I take a breath to keep myself from throwing a handful of fries at him.

"He probably thinks you're some kinda creep!" I pause. "I mean, more so than you actually are." And Derek Hale reveals that he is actually a five year old and opens his mouth at me. I bring up my hand to shield my eyes, something between a cry and laughter escaping my mouth. "Oh my god, you absolute child!"

He's grinning, mouth finally free of food, when I drop my hand. "He actually thinks I'm Scott's drug dealer."

"I wonder why," I say, shaking my head at him. "I thought I was supposed to be the immature one."

"You're a bad influence," he says.

I nod. "Obviously. But it could be worse," I say, snatching up my milkshake. "At least here I don't have access to alcohol. Man, the choices made when drunk." I shake my head, thinking back to my first semester at college. "18 was a fun year, if you ignore the whole murderous step-mom thing," I say brightly. Derek arches a brow, but I don't bother to elaborate. I don't think we're to the level of sharing fucked up family history just yet, werewolf shit aside.

" _Nooo, mi tortaaa!_ "

Derek shakes his head as I pull out my phone and open the message.

 **Stiletto (2 new messages)**

 _I found this on Lydia's phone.  
_ [Download media]

"I'm so done with with this kid," I mutter, playing the video Stiles sent. The movie rental store fills the screen, and my brows furrow in confusion. "The hell, St- _Madre de Dios_!" The window of the store shatters and I drop my phone on the table, jumping back in shock. Derek looks up in alarm, eyes wide with concern.

"Ares?"

"Fuckin', they got the thing on camera!" I say, nodding to the phone and trying to keep my hands from shaking. Let it be known that I fucking hate jump scares. Derek narrows his eyes at the phone before picking it up and playing the video again. He keeps his face carefully blank as it plays.

"This just tells us what we already know," he says finally, handing my phone back. I start the video again, this time prepared for the jump. "We don't get anything new out of this."

I frown, replaying it one more time, pausing it on the shot of the Alpha glaring directly at the camera. "Other than the fact that it obviously saw this girl recording it?" I show it to Derek. "And that Jackson kid was in there, so why the hell didn't it go after them too? If it's supposed to be so smart wouldn't it want to get rid of witnesses?" He doesn't offer an answer and I slump down into my seat. "I hate everything. I should have never left… actually, no." I straighten. "Never let me say that," I tell Derek solemnly. He shakes his head in disbelief, face scrunched in contempt.

"What's so good about Beacon Hills that makes up for all this shit?" he demands.

I frown at him in confusion. "Well, I met you, didn't I?" His eyes go wide in shock. "We're bros now, dude. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried." His ears go red and he ducks his head.

"You should pick your friends better."

"Fuck off, you have blue glowy eyes; you're awesome," I snap, pointing my finger at his nose before glancing down at the time on my phone. "Finish your food. I have work in thirty minutes."

* * *

Deaton calls me a bit after two hours into my shift at the station. Because I'm a horrible employee-and also because it's slow as all hell tonight-I answer.

"Yo, doc."

"Ares, I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he says. I roll my eyes.

"Nah, you're good. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you knew where Scott was," he says, and he sounds concerned. I straighten, frowning. "He never came in today, and when I called him, he didn't answer."

My head drops. "Oh, gosh, yeah, I have a pretty good idea." I run a hand over my hair. "Stiles said he went off with his girlfriend for her birthday." I sigh. "He's probably fine. He won't be when I get my hands on him, but that's something else."

Deaton lets out a breath of relief, and Pauly walks up from the back, a folder in his hands. I narrow my eyes at him as he saunters up casually, drops the folder on the counter, and arches a knowing brow before heading back to his desk.

Pauly is my favorite human. Ever.

"Well, that's good," Deaton says. "Thank you, Ares."

"Yeah, no prob, Doc." I say, glancing around nonchalantly. "You should totally fire him now."

"Good bye, Ares," Deaton says, the amusement clear in his voice.

" _Hasta mañana_."

I stuff my phone back in my pocket and read the post-it, Pauly's chicken scratch barely legible. _Don't get me fired, kid._ I grin and flip the folder open, only to frown in confusion at what it had inside. Copies of grainy pictures. Three pictures. I pull them out and freeze.

"Oh, you gotta be fuckin' kidding me," I mutter. The three pictures are from the scene yesterday, maybe the security camera across the street. One shows the alpha jumping out of the window. The second has it walking away from the red-headed girl's car. The third one, though, that's the fucked up one. The alpha stands on its back two feet, just as it had the night of Scott's first lacrosse game.

"Some bullshit," I mutter, pulling my phone back out and snapping three quick pictures. "That looks like a fuckin' skinwalker. I hate this town. I'm moving to Huntington Beach when I finish school." I start to put my phone back away as I flip the folder back shut and grab a baggy of brownies from where I stashed them under the counter, only to stop when I catch a glimpse of the time.

Scott has thirty minutes to get to school. Shit.

Pulling up his name, I press call, dropping the bag of brownies on the folder and scooting it to the side where Pauly can see from his desk. He's at the counter by the third ring, grabbing both the bag and folder and throwing a two fingered salute as he goes back to his desk.

Scott answers the third time I try calling him.

"Ares, what the hell, when did you change my ringtone?" he exclaims. I grin, feeling particularly proud of the recording I left him. "Allison just heard you threaten to castrate me, like, five times!"

"Yeah, well, maybe answer on the first call and this wouldn't happen," I advise him. "Now get the hell to school or I swear to god I'll call Derek right now and tell him to kick your ass in front of your girlfriend."

"Ares!"

"You're failing all your classes, _pendejo_! I don't care if you're in the middle of a blowie, pull your pants up and get the fuck to school," I hiss quietly, then smile up at a passing wide eyed deputy. "And don't even get me started on how you didn't show up to work."

"It was just this one time!"

"Deaton called me worried about you!"

"He-he did?"

" _Si_! Call him. Now. And get to school."

I don't give him time to answer before ending the call. God. I gonna need some seriously hard liquor by the time this is all over.

* * *

 **Stiletto (3 new messages)**

 _There was a mountain lion at the conference. my dad got hit by a car  
he's fine, but he got hit bY A FUCKING CAR ARES WTF  
also i'm not talking to scott right now  
_(S)  
 _Oh my god.  
Are you okay?  
_(A)  
 _I'm not the one that got hit by the car  
_ (S)  
 _You know what I mean.  
_ (A)  
 _I'm fine.  
_ (S)  
 _Call if you need anything, okay?_

I drop my phone on my night stand and cover my face with my hands. Breathe in and out slowly until the feeling of absolute dread eases. It isn't by much; just enough to make staying awake tolerable.

I force myself up and snatch my computer from where I left it under my pillow this morning. It boots up quickly enough, and I have my video player open and playing before I can even think to do anything productive.

" _We are the Crystal Gems_ …"

I grab my pillow and hug it, humming along with the theme. There might be a million and eight horrible things wrong in the world right now, but hey. If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn't have hotdogs. Except in this case, it doesn't matter if we're pork chops or hotdogs, because we're all gonna die by horrible Alpha maulings anyway.

I bury my face in the pillow and try my very best not to cry. It works out about as good as you can imagine.

* * *

 **So there's homework I should have been doing this weekend, but I finally finished the Night School chapter and the one after that, so I figured I'd celebrate by sharing chapter 11 earlier than planned. YAY! Also, _huge_ thank you to those who reviewed/followed last time. Those were great, and I loved each and every one. I'm super happy you all like Ares so much. You're all the best 3  
**


	12. Chapter 12

It's by the tenth version of "Stronger than You" that Derek finally snaps.

The track is empty, minus the two of us, and the streetlights are still on despite the slowly rising sun. Derek had the good sense to not wear jeans like he did during his workout yesterday, weirdo that he is. Instead, he wears sweatpants and a plain t-shirt.

"Change the playlist," he growls, and when I glance over at him, his eyes are flashing that pretty anime blue. He slows to a stop and I pull up ahead, turning to face him and walk backwards.

" _Problema_?"

"This is the tenth time we've listened to this song!"

"This is actually the first time we've listened to _this_ song. We have thirteen versions left after this," I tell him, bouncing on my toes in an attempt to keep up the movement.

He glares, but it's hard to take him seriously with his hair plastered to his forehead. It's a very boyish look. Sonya would be very disappointed that I'm not instagramming it for her.

"Change the playlist."

I roll my eyes and pull my phone out of my pocket. "You're such a whiny baby." I glance up at him. He looks at me, arms crossed and brow raised expectantly. His face is flushed a bit from the run, and I can only imagine how mine looks in comparison. "How okay are you with cheesy eighties montage songs?" I ask. He makes no attempt to hide how little he thinks of my music choice. "You can't intrude on a girl's morning run and demand a change in music. It's rude."

"Please change the playlist."

"That 'please' sounded like it hurt. You hurt, Der?" I ask as I start a new playlist, this time the music better suited for a run. I shove my phone in my pocket and turn on my heels. "Come on, Hale. I plan on surviving the zombie apocalypse, and one of the main rules of _Zombieland_ is cardio."

"Zombie apocalypse?" he drawls, easily keeping pace with me, and it's times like these I hate his whole werewolf advantage.

"Yup. Now shut up and stop messing with my funky flow."

The lights have flicked off by the time I decide it's about time to stop or risk losing a lung. "Oh my god, why do I do this to myself?" I gasp, tugging at my sweatshirt to try and peel it off my skin. "It just makes me gross and too hot and puts me in respiratory distress," I go on, wiping my face with my arm before pulling off my sweatshirt, having to hold my shirt down under it. "Some bullshit."

I turn to face Derek. His face is flushed red, which wow, you'd think his asshole werewolf powers would have kept that from happening.

"So you hear about Sheriff Stilinski getting hurt last night?" I ask, snatching my water bottle off the bleachers. He clears his throat as I pop the cap open with my teeth and take a drink. "Fuckin' some asshole backed into him with their car because everyone was panicking about some fuckin' mountain lion decided to crash the conference." I take a breath to reel in my anger and hold the bottle out to Derek. He takes it with a frown.

"There was a mountain lion at the school last night?"

"S'what Stiles texted me last night. He also ended up calling at, like, the middle of my _Steven Universe_ binge ranting about what a horrible person Scott is." I pause, make sure he isn't in the middle of a drink before going on. "Argent shot it, apparently. Stiles thinks they're gonna pin all the recent murders on it." I shake my head before dropping it in my hands. Derek doesn't say anything as I collect myself and finally pick up my head. "So. Any near death experiences lately?"

He keeps his face blank, so I know what's about to come out of his mouth is gonna be bad. "Unless you count Kate Argent breaking into my house and trying to shoot me."

My jaw drops, and some stupid, desperate part of me wants him to shoot up some jazz hands and shout "Kidding!"

He doesn't.

The idea of Derek dead in the middle of the woods somewhere, alone…

I drop my face into my knees and do my best to stomp down the absolute feral rage that bubbles in my stomach. My hands shake, and I keep my jaw clenched shut, not trusting any words that might slip out if I open my mouth.

"I shouldn't have told you that," Derek says quietly, voice strained.

" _Hija de su pinche puta madre_!" I shout, throwing my sweater down. " _La voy a matar_!"

"Ares-"

" _Quiere morir_ ," I go on, pulling my keys out of my pocket. "That's the only logical reasoning for her actions."

"Ares, what are you doing?" Derek grabs my arm when I march to my car. I look at him, trying to convey how stupid I find his question.

"Did you not just hear me?" I demand, yanking my arm free. " _La. Voy. A. Matar_."

"You can't just go and kill her," he says, jumping in front of me and placing his hands on my shoulders. I throw my arms up in disbelief.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! She tried to _kill you_!"

"And she _will kill you_ if you just show up, you absolute…" he flounders for a word. "Look, I got out alive."

"This time!" I snap, shoving him back. "What if she does it again, huh? What if the next bullet hits your head instead of your arm? Did you maybe think about that?"

He clenches his jaw. "I doubt Scott would care much."

My fist connects before I realize it's been thrown. He stumbles back, hand raising to the red mark quickly forming on his jaw. "What about me, _pinche pendejo_?!" He stares at me in shock. "I fuckin' care, you asshole! How long until you get that through your thick skull?!" The pain in my hand makes itself known, and if my eyes water, I blame it on that. "Fuckin' _burro cabezon_ ," I mutter, wiping at my eyes with my not hurt hand. "You have some problematic ideas about yourself, and I swear to god, next time you talk shit on yourself, I'm gonna kill you myself," I snap, trying to shake the pain from my hand. He doesn't speak, so I huff in annoyance and turn on my heels, snatching my forgotten sweatshirt up off the ground. "I appreciate you, Derek Hale, and you better remember that."

"You have a funny way of showing it," he says finally, not looking at me. I sit back down on bleachers and glare at him.

"Tough love, asshole." I look down at my hand, my knuckles already going purple. "Jesus Christ, that was a shit punch." I flex my hand and hiss. "I bet you aren't even hurt anymore, with your asshole werewolf powers."

He looks down at me before rolling his eyes and dropping next to me. "Give me your hand."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You gonna break it like you did Scott's?" I snap before I can stop myself. Hurt flashes in his eyes and I feel my stomach sink. "Shit, I didn't mean that," I say quietly, ducking my head.

"I know," he says. "Part of the asshole werewolf powers." He glances up at me, brows raised. I make a face, but hold my hand out anyway. He takes it in his own, carefully, and not a second later, the pain eases.

"Dude, what the hell?" I look down and immediately try to yank my hand away. "What the _hell_ -why does your arm look like death again?!" I exclaim, staring at the black veins going up Derek's hand and forearm.

"It's fine," he says, not letting go of my hand.

"It is not okay! What are you doing?!"

"Taking the pain," he says simply, as if remarking on the weather. "We can't take the actual wound away, but we can take away the pain."

It takes a second for me to realize that means that he's hurting instead of me. This stupid self-sacrificing asshole.

"Well I don't want you to take my pain!" I snap, trying to pull my hand out of his careful grip. "It's mine!"

He arches a brow. "Ares, let me do this."

I glare at him.

"Asshole," I mutter, dropping my head on his shoulder. He tenses for a split second, and I wonder if I did the wrong thing before he relaxes again. He's gross and sweaty, but then again, so am I. What a sight we would be.

"You've mentioned."

We sit in silence for a moment before I speak. "I still think I should go kill that bitch," I say sourly.

"I appreciate that you're willing to defend my honor," he says dryly, "but I'd rather you didn't give her an excuse to hurt you."

I prop my chin on his shoulder. "Derek Hale, you appreciate me?" He glances down at me, the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips, but he doesn't say anything. "You totally appreciate me."

I pause, thinking. Kate Argent found Derek at home. The Argents know he's there, and Crazy Kate doesn't seem against murder in cold blood. "Der, I don't think you should stay at home anymore," I say carefully.

He glances down at me, expression closed off. "What?"

"I just…What's stopping her from coming back? What's stopping any of them from just showing up again?" He doesn't say anything, just stares out to the track. "Just think about going somewhere safer, okay?" I drop a hand on his arm, the one with the black veins. "Please?"

He looks down at me, expression softening. "I'll think about it."

I smile, pat his arm. "Good."

* * *

"I brought milk and cookies!"

Sheriff Stilinski looks down at the small covered plate in one of my hands and the half gallon in the other, then glances out into the hall to make sure no double crossing deputies are around.

"Stiles can't know," he says, stepping back and letting me in. I step in and follow him in, kicking the door shut behind me.

"Oh, I know," I say quickly, setting the plate and milk down on his desk carefully as he grabs two mugs from the shelf by his desk. "But I don't think anyone other than Pauly saw me sneak you these, and I already bribed him with promise of homemade tortillas for next week." I drop in the chair on the opposite side of his desk and pull my legs up to cross them.

"Tortillas?" Sheriff Stilinski looks up hopefully.

"You got hit by a Camry, not a semi." I uncover the cookies as he pours the milk. "Should you even be working right now?" I ask, glancing up at him. He levels me with a look and I bring up my hands in defense. "Just can't imagine Stiles being okay with it."

He sighs and shakes his head. "He's about as far from okay as he can get. Kid worries too much."

I lean back and rest my hands on the arm rests. "You got hit by a car."

"I'm fine, Ares."

"I saw a limp."

"Get your eyes checked, kid," he says dryly, snatching a cookie before I can take the plate away. "I'm fine."

" _Si dices_ ," I say uncertainly.

"I do dee-seh," he says, absolutely butchering the word like the middle aged white man that he is. "And I appreciate your concern."

I grab a mug of milk and bring it up in a toast. "All part of my devious plan to become favorite Mexican kid." Stilinski snorts, shaking his head. We fall into a comfortable silence. It's great, until I end up slamming my bruised knuckle on the desk when reaching for a second cookie.

" _Hijo de-_ " I suck in a breath through my teeth and cradle my hand to my chest. "God, that hurt."

The Sheriff arches a brow. "Over-reaction much?"

I look up at him blankly. "Yes." I drop my hand onto my lap, out of his view. "Over-reaction." He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Nothing you can criminalize," I say quickly before pausing. "Wait, no…"

"Ares." I duck my head because, damn, he's got the best dad-glare I've ever seen. "Show me your hand."

I drop my shoulders. "It's fine," I say, holding up my hand. "It's hardly even colored." And that's the truth. You can barely see the bruise.

"Christ, kid, who'd you lay out?" he demands, and oh. Looky there, he's activated Dad Mode. Expert Level, of course, considering who his son is.

"Derek Hale," I answer truthfully, keeping my voice light. His expression immediately darkens. "It was an accident though," I add the lie quickly. "Well, kinda. I was going for a light bro punch because he was being a loser, but he moved and I kinda ended up-" I mime a punch- "the bleachers with too much momentum and not enough time to pull back. It was very embarrassing."

He looks like he wants to call bullshit, but in the end doesn't. "Bleachers?"

"He started going running with me in the mornings," I say, trying to keep the relief that he didn't push the subject out of my voice. "I told him my theory of the minimum wage serial killer, so he's like my new bodyguard." I roll my eyes. "He worries. It's cute."

Stilinski's face goes blank and I realize just what I said. "Cute. Derek Hale."

I look up at him with wide eyes. "I didn't say that."

"The same Derek Hale my son and your cousin sent to jail."

"I didn't say… you're saying it like…" I shove the plate of cookies in front of him. "Please stop this conversation."

He looks like he wants nothing more than to stop the conversation, but because he's cursed to be a responsible adult, he doesn't. "He's kinda old for you…"

"Oh my god, _stop_." I drop my face in my hands.

"I just worry."

"Well, don't," I say more sharply than I mean. He arches a brow and I duck my head.

"Look, you're Melissa's to worry about, which means you're mine to worry about too," he says before going on carefully. "And I know it isn't something you're too used to, but you're gonna have to deal, kid, because that's how it is in these small towns."

I cross my arms and slide down in the chair, glaring at the desk. "Alicia and Aaron worried sometimes," I argue weakly.

"Siblings aren't the same as parents." I glance up at him. "I want you to be careful, Ares," he says, and he sounds so tired suddenly. "Something's going on in Beacon Hills right now, something I don't understand, and I don't want you getting hurt out here." I drop my gaze, hoping he doesn't catch the guilt. "All I know right now is that this all started around the time Derek Hale and Argent came back into town, and even if I don't have proof that it's connected to all this, I don't want to take any chances." He pauses. "Do you think you can trust Derek Hale?"

"Yes."

He nods once. "Well I don't, not yet, so you're gonna have a paranoid old man looking over your shoulder for a while."

"You're not that old," I say, trying to lighten the conversation. He offers a small smile.

"Tell that to my leg."

"Ha! I knew you were hurt, you old liar!" I exclaim, pointing an accusing finger at his nose.

He shakes his head. "Get back to work, Ares," he says, pushing the plate towards me. "And get rid of these before Stiles finds out."

* * *

Because Scott is grounded, I also have to suffer. Which is why I find myself sitting on the bleachers below Allison Argent and the toxic red headed girl that Stiles is in love with waiting for Scott's practice to just end already so we can go get groceries for Melissa.

"How long does this usually last?" I demand, leaning back and resting my elbows back on the bench above me, where Allison's feet rest. She pouts a bit, her brow furrowing in thought.

"You have another ten minutes, and then they usually shower," Toxic says sharply. I figure that since she just saw a rage monster serial killer, I'd let her have her salt for now.

"God." I drop my head back and groan. "And you're here by choice?"

Allison nods eagerly. "With Scott grounded, I don't get to see him as much outside of school."

"Oh my god, that's adorable," I say, picking up my head. "Why didn't you get grounded too?" I ask, picking my legs up so I can turn to talk the girls without craning my neck like the little girl on _The Exorcist_. I cross my legs and prop my elbow on the bench above me, resing my chin in my hand. Allison ducks her head, her cheeks flushing pink. "Oh, shit, no, I don't mean it mean or anything," I add quickly. "Just curious, is all."

Toxic rolls her eyes. "Well, for starters, she isn't failing all her classes."

There's only so much I can let slide, and the kid is reaching her limit. I blink at her, trying my best to keep my tone neutral. "Right."

I must not have mastered it like Derek though, because Toxic leans back a bit in alarm.

"Lydia," Allison scowls, having not caught it and wow. She must be as pure and perfect as Scott says she is. "It was my birthday, and since we got there in time for the conferences, I managed to get back on my parents' good side." She pauses, smiling shyly. "Your ringtone on Scott's phone worked, by the way."

"Yeah!" I exclaim, holding a fist up for her. She laughs and reaches down and bumps it with her own, Lydia watching in contempt. Allison's pendant swings as she straightens back up, catching my attention. "Oh, that looks cool," I say, nodding to it. Her hand automatically reaches for it, smile spreading across her face.

"Oh, thanks. My aunt gave it to me for my birthday," she says, leaning forward again so I can see.

"Your aunt."

She doesn't notice the sharp tone I use.

"My aunt Kate," she confirms, holding the pendant out a bit. I lean in to examine it. It's irregularly shaped, with a weird looking dog in the middle. "She said it has something to do with our family history."

"Family history?" I look up at her and she leans back. "Anything fun?" I bring my hands to my cheeks and widen my eyes. "Anything _scandalous_?"

She laughs. "Not that I know of," she says.

I crinkle my nose. "That's boring," I decide. "I bet you can find all sorts of interesting stuff if you looked hard enough. Horse robbers in the west, first generation immigrants, aristocrats way back when in Europe." _Serial killing wolf hunters._

"Oh, look, the boys are finally done," Lydia says flatly, standing. "Interesting as this conversation is…" She doesn't even bother to finish as she walks down the stands to the stream of freshly showered boys coming from the locker room. Allison jumps up and all but runs to where Scott is walking alone. Stiles makes a point to walk far enough away to where they can't talk, but close enough to where Scott can see he's pissed. I roll my eyes and carefully pull myself up, trying to not fall.

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asks as I meet him on the field. I throw my arm over his shoulder and run my hand over his still damp head.

"You still wanting to murder Scott?"

"That obvious?" He makes a face, but doesn't pull away.

"Delgados see all," I say ominously, bringing my hand up and wiggling my fingers. Stiles snorts. "Scott gets the stupid from the McCall part of the family tree."

"That's believable. Seriously though, why're you here?"

I sigh melodramatically and drop my head on his shoulder. "Melissa wants groceries and told me to take Scott so he doesn't do anything stupid." I look around to see said little cousin locked in an intimate embrace with Allison. "Like give her grandchildren."

Stiles smirks. "Better go separate them then," he says, ducking out from under my arm. "I don't think I can handle becoming an uncle just yet."

"You wouldn't be the one living with the kid," I call over my shoulder as he walks away. "Remember your seatbelt! Don't pick up any sketchy hitchhikers!" He looks back at me, face flushed red as some of the other boys notice our exchange. I turn and find Scott and Allison, still not moving from their _The Notebook_ reenactment. "Yo, Scottifer, we're leaving!" I call out, walking up to them. "Stop trying to make me a _tia_ and let's go!"

Scott's face goes a deep red and I can see Allison ask him something. He just shakes his head and gives her a quick kiss before leaving her side and rushing up to me.

"Did you really have to yell that out?" he demands as we head to the parking lot. I lock my arm with his and roll my eyes.

"Got your attention," I say lightly.

"Do you think…" Scott trails off, glancing back at where Allison is still with Lydia and the boy that looks like a Chad. "Do you think maybe you can let me go to Allison's later?" I level him with a look. "Just for a little bit!" he adds quickly.

For a little bit, my ass. I heard that from Warren too many times and wasted many an hour waiting for his booty calls to end.

"You're grounded," I remind him.

"And you're the best big cousin in the whole wide world," he says sweetly, eyes wide and puppy like. You can almost hear the crack in my resolve.

"We'll see," I say, looking away. I catch his smile out the corner of my eye though. Little shit.

* * *

 **And there you have Ares' reaction to Kate Argent, without actually meeting her yet.**

 **As always, welcome to those that are new to the party, and thanks for fave/following/reviewing. Shameless promotion: I set up a tumblr, and it's pretty empty right now, but there's a link on my profile if anyone interested. Feel feel to drop an ask or submit anything or whatever it is people do with these things** **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
**

 **This A/N is getting kinda long, but one last thing: lunalight01 and anyone maybe wondering, the plan is for this to end up Derek/Ares, and it will. The thing about Ares, though, is that she is so utterly _oblivious_ to these types of things. So yeah.  
**

 **Anywho, you're all the best. 3**

Translations

1\. _Hija de su pinche puta madre_ \- female equivalent to "Son of a fucking bitch"  
2\. _La voy a matar_ \- I'm going to kill her  
3\. _Quiere morir_ \- (S)he wants to die


	13. Chapter 13

What starts off as fifteen minutes turns into twenty, which turns to thirty. That's my limit though. I can only spend so much time waiting in the car like a creep in a nice neighborhood while my little cousin might be getting ass. Also, there's stuff that needs to be refrigerated in the back.

It's times like these I realize just how pathetic my life has become since coming to Beacon Hills. Sonya and Warren must never know or I'll never hear the end of it.

Scott drove, so I sit in the passenger seat, feet propped up on the dash and my phone to my face. The temperature has dropped to an uncomfortable level and the windows have since fogged up. It gives a _Silent Hill_ kinda vibe that I'm not helping by reading a thread on askreddit about paranormal experiences. I'm tempted to comment that my little cousin went and got turned into a werewolf, but for some reason I feel it'd just get downvoted to hell.

" _Ares_!" I look up to see a dark figure through the fog - Scott - running to the Turtle. He slams into the door, hard enough to shake the car and maybe even dent the door. Which if he did, he's totally paying to fix it.

"What the hell?!"

"Open the door!" he exclaims, panic thick in his voice, and even as I lean over to flick open the lock, I can hear him fumbling with the keys. He throws open the door and all but falls in.

"Scott, what the fu...?" I start, looking up past him as he slams the door shut. A large, dark figure with glowing red eyes stands behind him. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," I breathe.

I grab his arm, hard, and pull him away from the door toward the middle as the figure - the Alpha - circles the Turtle. It pauses by my door and this time it's Scott who pulls me away from it, what sounds like a low growl coming from his throat. His eyes are glowing gold as he glares at the figure, fear replaced with the exact same murderous expression Aaron gets when someone other than him comments on the crazy that is our family. If I ever doubted Scott's Delgado heritage, I sure as shit don't anymore.

The Alpha raises a hand, presses a claw against my fogged window, and slowly draws a spiral. Scott and I exchange confused looks. When we look back at the window, the figure is gone.

"Okay, what the _fucking fuck_?!" I exclaim once I can get my voice to work. "Scott?" I look up at him as he leans back into his seat, eyes going back dark. "You okay? Did it get you?" He shakes his head, looking at me.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Oh, God, has it been there the whole time?"

I shake my head. "I dunno. I…" I take a breath, and it catches in my throat. "Let's go before decides to come back." He looks at me for a second before nodding.

 _We just saw the alpha  
_ (A)

The reaction is almost instantaneous.

" _All I wanna do-_ "

Scott jumps at the ringtone, swerving a bit into the other lane. I take a breath to calm my nerves before answering.

"What happened?" is Derek's immediate greeting. "Are you okay?"

"We're fine," I say, and thank God I can say that. "It just scared the shit out of us." I look out the window and make sure there aren't any glowing red eyes following.

"Where are you?" he demands.

"We're heading home." I glance at Scott, then to the spiral on my window, which is almost gone.

"I'll meet you there," Derek says, and is off the line before I can argue.

Melissa is still at work when we get home. Scott and I have an unspoken agreement that neither of us are going to be alone, so we bring in the groceries as quickly as we can. Scott waits in the kitchen as I put away the things that need to be in the fridge, and when we walk up the stairs, I have a hold of his hand. He doesn't argue or pull away.

When we get to his room, Scott all but runs to close his window. I let out a sigh and drop in his bed, throwing an arm over my eyes.

"When's Derek getting he- Jesus Christ, Derek!" Scott exclaims when he turns on the lamp. I jump up and all but fall out of the bed, and lo and behold, Derek Hale sits in Scott's chair. "Can you stop doing that?!" Scott snaps, hand resting on his heart.

"I'm just gonna be over here having a panic attack," I tell them quietly, dropping back into the bed, grabbing a pillow, and curling into a ball.

"What happened?" Derek demands. "Where were you that it came after you?"

Scott hesitates and glances over at me. "We went to go get groceries."

"I highly doubt the Alpha would have approached you when you went to get eggs and milk." Derek ups the level of his glare. "Where were you?"

"Took him to go see Allison," I say into the pillow. They both turn to face me. Scott has betrayed look in his eyes, and Derek's face warps in anger.

"Allison?" Derek growls, standing. "Dammit, Scott-"

"It's not like I knew it was going to show up!" Scott argues, but takes a step back when Derek advances.

"But you were distracted because of her! That girl is going to get you killed." He turns to face me. "And where were you when this happened?"

"Car," I say, sitting up to join the conversation like a normal person that didn't just almost maybe die. "Guard the groceries and all that," I say, but my voice is hollow.

Derek turns on Scott. "You left her in the car!?"

I glare at him, crossing my arms. Can't say I appreciate how he implies it wasn't my choice.

"I left myself in the car, thank you."

"She could have been killed and you wouldn't have even known!" Derek's eyes flash blue and Scott's go gold in response. Cool as it looks, something in my gut tells me something is going on that won't end well if I let it continue. I jump up and grab Derek's arm.

"Hey, I'm fine," I tell him, pulling him back a bit. "Look," I gesture to myself with an arm. "I'm whole, I'm alive, I'm not dead." He looks down at me, eyes still blue. "And even if it did go after me, you and Scott could totally just go avenge me, so is there really a problem?"

Derek looks down at me as if I just dishonored his cow. "You would be _dead_ , Ares!"

And, okay, yeah he kinda has a point there. "And charming as you are, you'd find someone else to make you muffins," I tell him lightly, trying to ease the tension in the room. "But right now, there are more important things to talk about. Like why it didn't kill us when it could have."

Derek inhales sharply and holds it for a second, probably going to his happy place before exhaling. When he blinks, his eyes are that pretty hazel again. He looks to Scott, who also lost his glow eyes. "Did it talk to you?"

"Oh, yes, we had a nice conversation about the weather. No it didn't talk to me!"

"Did you get anything up off it then? An impression?"

Scott frowns in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Derek looks very done with this whole situation. "Remember your other senses are heightened. Communication doesn't have to be spoken. What kind of feeling did you get from him?"

Because apparently telepathy is part of these asshole werewolf powers. There's silence as Scott thinks. "Anger." And oh, sounds not very nice.

"Focused on you?"

Scott shakes his head after another moment of consideration. "No. No, not me. But definitely anger. I could feel it. Especially when he drew the spiral."

"Wait, the what?" Derek asks. Scott and I exchange looks as he goes on. "Say that again."

"Spiral. Or if that's too complicated a word, the swirly," I answer for Scott, bringing up my finger and drawing it in the air. "He drew it on my window." I pause. "Probably scratched it too, the asshole."

Derek goes still, and when I look up at him, he has a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You have this look on your face like you know what it means," Scott accuses.

Derek shakes his head. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." He heads for the door.

"Wait, what?"

"No, you can't just do that," Scott says, grabbing Derek's shoulder to stop him. "You can't ask me to trust you and then keep things from me!"

I bring up a hand. "I have literally been saying this since day one."

"It means nothing," Derek says, sounding very much like someone who would rather drop the subject. He reaches for the door knob, only to stop short at Scott's next words.

"You buried your sister under a spiral."

I drop my face in my hands, because of course he doesn't have tact for this.. "Oh my god, Scott."

He ignores me. "What does it mean?"

Derek looks at him, then at me, before letting out a sigh. He drops a hand on Scott's shoulder, and honestly it's the nicest gesture I've seen him act toward Scott. "You don't want to know."

He walks out, closing the door behind him. I stare after him for a second before shaking my head and rushing after him.

"Der," I call, catching him at the top of the stairs. He looks back at me. "Dude, what was that?"

"Don't worry about it," he says, heading down the stairs. I follow him.

"Um, no, I think I will worry about it." He glances back at me as he goes for the front door. "You might think you can get away with not telling Scott these things, but that shit won't work with me." He reaches for the door, not answering, so I do the only thing I can think of to stop him: jump in front of the door and slam it back shut and lean against it with my back. This also puts me in the middle of Derek's personal space. He looks down at me, freezing in shock.

"What're you doing?"

"What's the spiral mean?"

"It's not important."

"It must be if the Alpha thought it was a good idea to deface my car for it!" I snap, shoving him back. He blinks down at me, face carefully neutral. "Derek, it isn't just you that's dealing with this shit, it's me and Scott too, and we have a right to know what's going on."

He stares down at me. "Move-"

"No."

He huffs, rolling his eyes. "We'll talk outside."

"Oh." I duck my head and slide out from in front of the door. He pulls it open and I follow him out, shaking my sleeves over my hands and wrapping my arms around my middle. I tell myself it's because it's cold out, but the cold has little to do with my shaking hands. He turns to face me once the door is shut behind me, and he has a frown on his face.

"You okay?"

I frown. "I thought we were going to talk about the spiral." And his magic eyebrows do the judgy thing. I drop my gaze to to his shoes. "I'm fine."

"Liar," he accuses, taking a step forward. I glance up at him, and there's nothing but concern in his eyes. "Asshole werewolf powers," he reminds me.

I crinkle my nose at him. "Can't you turn them off?"

He gives a small smile. "Not with you." He pauses. "Seriously, though. You're taking this all really…" he struggles to find the word, and in the end just gives up.

"Conceal, don't feel," I tell him. "Elsa makes a great life coach."

He frowns. "Ares."

"I'm fine. I just needa…" I think for a second. What do I need? I can't call Sonya and Warren about this. I can't call Alicia or Aaron, God knows I can't call Dad. Not when Elisa might answer. And I'm not about to worry Stiles with it right now. My shoulders fall and I hold my middle tighter, as if it'd ease the knot of dread in my stomach. Being alone sucks so much ass. "I dunno," I tell him quietly, not looking up at him. Derek doesn't speak. Instead, he takes a step forward and pulls me into his arms. I blink in surprise, because wow, Derek Hale's chest. "What're you doing?"

"Your life sucks," he says matter of factly, and that shit, throwing my words back at me.

I drop my head on his shoulder. "My life does suck. Your life sucks too. We should go to Huntington."

"Maybe after we deal with the Alpha." He pulls away and I immediately miss the warmth. Let it be known that Derek Hale gives great hugs. 10/10 would be hugged again.

"If we don't die first," I say. He rolls his eyes.

"Go back inside," he says, stepping back. "Tell Scott to work on finding his anchor."

"What about the swirly?"

"Goodnight, Ares," he calls over his shoulder as he hops down the steps.

"Der, that's not fair!"

He doesn't answer. I cross my arms and glare after him as he makes his way to the camaro, which was parked across the street. He glances back before crossing, his eyes flashing blue. A warning. I roll my eyes at him before turning to the door, pausing when I have it open. I glance back at him.

"Hey!" He pauses, looks back at me. "You'll be careful, right? With the stuff you're not telling us, you'll be careful?"

He stays still for a second, then nods once. And whatever, once is good enough for me.

* * *

 **Human Puppy (7 new messages)**

 _good news. stiles is talking to me again!  
i found my anchor!  
its allison  
but i have detention and youre gonna have to cover for me at deatons until i get there if i even end up going  
youre the best  
love you  
3  
_(HP)

"You little shit," I mutter under my breath, then with more feeling when I notice the tiny exclamation point indicating my phone only has three percent of battery left, "you _little_ shit." I shove my phone back in my pocket in annoyance and Deats looks up from his work at me, brow raised. "My phone didn't charge last night." I say, dropping my head mournfully. Deats is considerate enough to allow me a moment of silence. "Also, looks like you're stuck with me, Doc," I go on once the moment passes, taking the box of doggy meds he hands me. "Scotty's gonna be late, if he even shows up, and he told me to cover for him."

"Again?" Deaton shakes his head in amusement. "What is your cousin getting into, Ares?"

"Detention," I say lightly. Deats chuckles. "So you want me to stock these in the front?"

"Yes, please. And when you're done with that, the kitten Mr. Unwin brought in yesterday needs his medicine for his ringworms." I make a face, because seriously, shit's gross. "Remember gloves."

"The reminder was unnecessary," I say dryly, pushing the door open with my hip and moving to the shelves behind the front counter. It shouldn't take long to stock the stuff - flea and heartworm meds, pill pockets - but I really don't want to mess with the kitten, so I take my sweet time, singing under my breath. A fifteen minute jobs turns into a twenty minute job, and even that's too quick for my liking.

The kitten is black and orange, a mangy looking thing with bald patches on his tail and face. Deaton assured Scott and me that aside from ringworms and fleas, the kitten was fine.

"Okay, Tiny Feline," I say, pulling up my sleeves and a pair of plastic gloves on, " _vamos a hacer esto, y no quiero que te llores._ "

Tiny Feline mews pitifully at me as I place him on the table and start applying the medicine. It could be worse, I guess. He could be one of those hell spawn cats that hiss and scratch. Instead, Tiny Feline just seems content with being touched, and purrs as I rub the medicine in between his ears.

" _Pulgoso_ ," I say, putting him away when I finally finish. He cries when I leave him in the cage, and it's all I can do to ignore him as I pull off my gloves and wash off the table, and then my hands and arms. Leaving the nasty little bug is harder than I thought it would be.

"Tiny Feline is so chill," I tell Deaton once I go back to the room he's in. He smiles, but doesn't look up from his paper. I lean against the table next to him and look over his shoulder. "Is that for the sick rotty?"

He nods. "All better now, though. Mr. King will be by to pick him up tomorrow."

"Good. I'm tired of cleaning up his puke."

Deaton laughs. "Scott didn't care much for it either."

Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I look up to the door, expecting Scott.

"Derek?"

Derek stands at the door, looking very much like he wants to punch someone in the throat. Deaton looks up, confused. He takes a step forward. "Can we help you?"

Derek looks at me past Deats before answering. "I need to talk to Ares," he says sharply. Deaton frowns at his tone and looks very much like he wants to tell Derek to get the seven hells out of his clinic. Which would be bad.

"You couldn't have texted me?" I say lightly, patting Deats' arm as I pass him. "It's cool, I'll be right back." Derek glares at the doctor as I walk up to him, grab his arm and pull him out of the room.

"What are you doing here?" Derek demands once we're out of earshot, back in the room with Tiny Feline.

"I work here, _tonto_."

"You need to leave."

I stare up at him. "Um. I like my paycheck, so no? What's this about?"

Derek huffs in annoyance and pulls a paper out of his pocket and all but shoves it in my hands. It's a news article. Deer found three months ago with a spiral carved in its side. I look up at Derek.

"What's the spiral mean, Der?"

He clenches his jaw. "It's a sign of revenge for us," he says. Us. Werewolves. So it's not just a crazy rogue Alpha, it's a crazy rogue Alpha out for revenge. That's just great. "They mentioned your boss in the article. He knows something."

I stare up at him before looking back down at the paper. Sheriff Stilinski is always bringing in weird shit that he thinks Deaton might know about. This one, the deer… "I remember when Sheriff Stilinski brought in the picture of this," I tell him. "He said he didn't know anything about it." I pause, dropping my head to the side as I try to recall Deaton's words. "Well, he said the actual killing of the deer was probably just some natural predator. Mountain lion, since those seem to be the go to lately. But the spiral…" I look up at Derek, who stares like he's trying to look into my soul. Kind of unnerving. Sonya would say it's hot, but Sonya's into the tall, dark, and secretive type. "Probably just some asshole who came across it and made it seem like some Slenderman shit."

"This isn't some Slenderman shit." He exhales, and it comes out more like a growl than anything else. "And you believe him?" His voice is accusing, and I'm not sure if it's meant to target me or Deaton.

"Well, yeah." I look back down at the paper, scan it for details. Nothing really worth mentioning; it's all very vague as these articles usually are. "He usually knows what he's talking about. You don't think he has…" He looks away, clenching his jaw. "Der. Dude, don't be stupid."

"Stupid?" he demands, voice hard.

"Yes, stupid! Just because you find some old news article that mentions him with the spiral doesn't mean he's connected to it." I wave the paper in my hand. "It mentions the Sheriff too, you gonna go accuse him of being involved too?"

"Ares." And there's something in his voice I haven't heard in awhile. Since he's last told me to stay out of his way when it came to Scott. I narrow my eyes at him, draw back.

"What, Derek?"

"He could be killing people!"

"You don't have any proof!"

His face warps into something dark, something I'd rather not see again. "I could find it." It sounds very much like a threat.

"It isn't proof when you have to fuckin' force it out of them," I snap. "And if you even think about doing what I think you're planning on doing, I will _end_ you."

"Really?" Asshole sounds skeptical.

"Really." I shake my head. "Where the fuck did you even find this shit?"

He shakes his head. "Doesn't matter."

Ah, yes, back to keeping secrets. Very good. I take a breath. "Look, I gotta get back." I pause. "You're not gonna do anything dumb, are you?"

He doesn't look like he's going to answer until, "I'm going to keep an eye on him."

"You can't touch him," I order, pointing a finger at his nose. He narrows his eyes at it and I barely pull my hand away in time as he snaps at it. "I'm being serious!"

"I won't touch him," Derek says. It sounds like it physically hurts him to say it. Which is good, because that way I know he's telling the truth. "You'll be careful?"

"I'm always careful." He does the thing, the judge brows. "I am! Now get out before I get fired, please."

He looks like leaving is the last thing he wants to do. But finally he nods and turns to go. "I'll… I'll be close if you need anything," he says, pausing in the hall and sounding very much like the awkward stalker that he is.

"You'll use your asshole werewolf powers?" I ask.

"If it comes down to it." He smirks before walking away. He gets all of five steps away before I remember how super dead my phone is. "Hey! My phone is dead, so don't do anything stupid if you can't reach me, okay?"

He brings up a hand in acknowledgment, which is all I can really ask for.

Deaton looks visibly relieved when I walk back into the room he's in. "Worried, Deats?"

He smiles. "I was starting to think I would have to come out and show him a thing or two."

I snort. Deats is the last person I can imagine showing anyone a thing or two. "What is it with everyone thinking Der's so sketchy?" Deaton arches a brow. "Okay, so he looks like serial killer every now and then, but he's a very nice serial killer."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," he says with a chuckle before glancing down at his watch. "If Scott's in detention, I see no reason why you should suffer too." I drop my head to the side in confusion. "Go home, Ares. I'll see you tomorrow."

I gasp in melodramatic happiness. "Really? You'll be okay by yourself?" I think I did very good in not betraying the fact that he would no doubt be stalked by someone he thought was a serial killer, even a nice one.

"Really. I've been running this practice for a while before you and Scott invaded," he teases. "I think I can handle an hour or so by myself."

I bring my hands up and form a heart at him. "You're the best. I'll bring you tortillas tomorrow," I promise. "Just don't tell Sheriff Stilinski."

"It'll stay between the two of us," he says solemnly before smiling.

It's starting to get dark by the time I make it outside. I shouldn't be so surprised; it's still that horrible winter time where half the day is actually night, which everyone knows is dark and full of terrors. Derek's Camaro isn't out here anymore, if that's even how he got here the first time, what with his asshole werewolf powers.

As I let my Turtle heat up, my phone goes off. I frown, fishing it out of my pocket and catching sight of the new unopened message before my screen goes black, officially dead to the world. I frown.

"Hope that wasn't super important," I say to myself, dropping my it in the cup holder before searching for a station worth listening to.

* * *

 **Welp, after a lengthy absence, KH &MBB is back! I appreciate the patience. Spring semester is always worse. Anywho, super huge thanks to everyone who has followed and reviewed, and if you're new and liked it so far, be sure to follow and review! Those are always great. **

**So, about the tumblr, it's still kinda bare, but I'm trying to make it more active. I'm going to be posting a preview of the next chapter after posting one here, so check that out. It's on my profile, along with more details on what's going to be going on there.**

 **Next chapter will hit "Night School"!**


	14. Chapter 14

**So I want to formally apologize for not existing the past few months. Before you start this chapter, I feel like you should know that I've gone back and done some revisions on pretty much every previous chapter. They don't change the story, but they change enough to warrant skimming or rereading them.**

* * *

Sonya is understandably upset when she finds out why I have my laptop set up in the kitchen instead of my room.

"I can _not_ believe you're making tortillas without me!" she wails, throwing her head back melodramatically. I glance down at her on the screen as I tear a small chunk of _masa_ from the large lump and roll it into a small ball worthy of the Delgado name. We take our tortillas seriously.

"It's not like I'm making them just to spite you," I tell her, scratching at my nose with the back of my wrist to avoid getting flour on my face. "These are _bribery_ tortillas."

"That just makes it worse!" she argues. "It means you're getting into shenanigans without me!"

"What it means is that Deputy Paulson won't go telling Stiles I got his dad cookies the other day," I counter, pointing a finger at her before continuing at the task at hand. As it is, I have about ten rolls spread across the table, and have enough dough left to roll at least twice as many more. I already have Melissa's big breakfast skillet over the stove, ready for use once I'm done with this step.

Sonya groans. "Why do you keep feeding everyone there and not sending me anything?"

"Sheriff Stilinski got hit by a car! I couldn't _not_ get him cookies! And Pauly saw them, so his silence costs, like, five tortillas."

She narrows her eyes at me and leans in close to the screen. "You never make just five tortillas."

I cover the camera with my thumb for a second, long enough for her to squawk in anger. "Scott and Melissa made me promise to save them some."

Sonya crosses her arms and glares at me. "Yeah? And what about your serial killer boyfriend? You gonna save him some too?"

"Derek gets ten." Because I kinda owe him some home-cooked somewhat healthy food, and what's better to start with than tortillas? Maybe I should make something to go with them. Oo, it's been entirely too long since I've gotten my hands on some _lengua_. Can't say I know where to get any here though…

"You have your thinking face," Sonya tells me. I frown down at her as she smiles deviously. "Are you plotting out ways to woo him?"

"What? No!" I make a face at her. "I'm plotting out ways to feed him. I don't think he's had real food since he's been here." The thought of not having a real home cooked meal hurts my heart.

"That's literally the same thing!" Sonya says. "My momma always said the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," she goes sagely.

"Your mom literally has never said that, ever," I accuse. And I should know. I spent most of my high school career at Sonya's house.

"Doesn't change the fact that you're trying to seduce him with your food, which, come on, Ares. No one can resist your food. He's fucked."

I roll my eyes. "I guess there are worse things in life than having Derek Hale and his magical eyebrows in love with my food." Like being killed by a monster werewolf bent on revenge, or killed by an equally crazy hunter lady, or Stiles finding out I feed his dad-

"His last name is Hale?" she asks, sitting up straight. My eyes go wide, because shit. Shit, she's going to facebook stalk him now. _I_ haven't even facebook stalked him yet.

"Sonya-"

" _Bitch, you just jealous of my super saiyan swagger_."

I jump at my phone's sudden revival. It's plugged into my computer, charging since I started the tortillas. And since my computer doesn't make the best charging platform, it's only been alive for a couple minutes. I glare at Sonya, who's gleefully typing away at her computer, before grabbing the phone.

Three missed calls, ten unopened messages.

"Jesus, it's only been off for an hour," I mutter, swiping the messages open.

 **Human Puppy**

 _Come to the school ASAP_

I narrow my eyes. That's not right. Like, at all. Scott never uses capital letters correctly. Ever. I check the time it was sent, noting how it was the message I got right as my phone died earlier, before reading the rest.

 **Human Puppy  
** _ares we fucked up were fucked were gon die  
_ _were trapped in the school the alpha tricked us and now were stuck  
_ _HE JUST TORE THE BATTERY OUT OF STILES JEEP  
_ _ARES WAT DO WE DO  
_ _pls answer ur phone  
_ _were gonna hide in the lockerroom pls answer idk wat to do  
_ _ARES HE KILLED THE JANITOR  
_ _THE JANITOR IS DEAD  
_ _HELP US_

Fuck. _Fuck_.

FUCK.

"Son of a _bitch_!" I slam my hand down on the table, and it shakes from the force.

"Ares! What's wrong?" Sonya demands, face coated in alarm. I look down at her, and her eyes go wide with what looks like shock tinged with fear. Last time I saw her look at me like that was just a couple days before I ended up in California.

"I need to go," I tell her, and she barely has time to open her mouth before I disconnect the call and shut my laptop. My hands shake as I exit from the messages and pull up my contacts and pull up Derek number.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," I plead as I disconnect my phone and hastily throw a clean kitchen towel over the dough so it doesn't go dry. It seems I must have done something right recently, because the universe choose to smile upon me in my time of need.

"Yea-"

"Ohthankfuck." It comes out in a rush, more air than actual words, and I cradle my phone in my shoulder as I stuff my feet into my boots. "I need you. Right now, at the school," I tell him, snatching my keys from the counter and rushing out of the kitchen. There's a second of silence, and for that second I worry I might have caught his voicemail, which, if he has a syke out voicemail I'm going to murder him.

"What." It comes out weird, clipped and controlled. If he was in the middle of killing Deaton, I swear- I don't have time for this.

"Scott and Stiles are gonna die!" I exclaim, twisting the lock to the front door before slamming it shut behind me. I stumbled down the steps and only just caught myself before falling on my face. "The Alpha's at the school and it has them trapped and we need to save them _right now_!"

"What." This time it's all growl, and there's the Derek Hale I know and love.

"Scotty texted and my phone only just registered them and the alpha killed the janitor and they're trapped and meet me at the school in, like, five minutes," I tell him.

"Ares, wait-"

"'Kay, don't be on the phone and drive, that's illegal, bye!" I shove my phone in my pocket, barely remembering to disconnect, and jumped in the Turtle.

Scotty had better not be dead when I get there.

* * *

A pair of headlights pop up behind me as I pull into the school, and I hope to fuck that it's Derek, because I don't have time for anything else. There are two cars already in the lot by the front of the school: Stiles' Jeep and a silver porsche, which, fuck. This doesn't do us any favors.

I take a breath as I pull in next to the Jeep, the Camaro pulling in next to my car. Out of the corner of my eye I see Derek jump out of his car almost immediately. I ignore him for a moment, instead reaching over and pulling the glove compartment open. A small flashlight tumbles out and I barely catch it before it falls to the floor.

Derek waits by my door when I jump out of the Turtle, posture tense and alert as he scans the lot.

"Do you even have a plan?" he asks as I step up next to him.

"Find the boys. Get the fuck out. Don't die." I take note of the Jeep's warped hood as we make our way up the steps and hope the Alpha doesn't so much as think about touching my Turtle. "I'm still working on the details," I admit. Despite the severity of the situation, Derek snorts.

The front doors of the school are thrown wide open, and there's a chain hanging from one of the handles. I flick on my flashlight, peering into the school. The hallway is empty. And creepy. Super creepy. I swallow thickly, gripping my pepper spray tightly in my hand.

"Okay. We can do this. Just. Go into the school with the monster. Just. Go. Okay."

"Ares."

I look up at him, and he looks pointedly at how I have looped my arm through his, which, uh, when did that happen? "Uh, yeah, no, I'm not letting go," I tell him, tightening my hold, and whoa. Derek Hale. Gots some nice arms - My little cousin is about to die, I should not be thinking these thoughts.

"I wasn't going to make you," he says, blinking, and his eyes go bright blue. Ah yeah, asshole werewolf powers being put to some good use. "Come on."

Have you ever realized how terrifying schools are after dark? Because they're fucking terrifying. Nightmare fuel. Shit worthy of a gilded nosleep.

"This is how people die in horror movies," I tell Derek as we move deeper into the school, deeper into the darkness. In hopeless times like these, my inner Warren tends to come out. In front of me, I can practically feel Derek's eye roll. "They go into creepy schools alone with serial killing monsters." Now that I think about it, I should have called Warren first. He knows these things. He did his junior year research paper over horror movie survival statistics. "Derek, you're white, you're gonna have to protect me. I'm a minority, it's already looking bad for me." I gasp, and Derek jumps when I slap his arm. "I don't even have the security of being a virgin! Oh, I'm gonna die!"

"You don-?" Derek cuts himself off, shaking his head and scowling. "Will you shut up, you're not going to die. Now come on. They're this way," he says, leading the way.

"How do you know?" I ask, unable to stop myself. He glances down at me, blue eyes narrowed, but decides not to bother with telling me to shut up again.

"I can hear them. They're arguing."

Bless those asshole werewolf powers. Maybe I won't die after all. We fall back into silence, but it doesn't last very long.

"Why are schools so creepy at night?" I whisper, peering into a classroom as we pass. It's empty, and I take that as a good thing. No dead janitor in there. "Like, all schools," I go on, rushing after Derek who had continued forward without waiting for me. I grab the back of his jacket when I catch up, and he glances back at me before shaking his head. "It's probably because it's where hopes and dreams go to die," I mutter to myself.

"With your ramblings, the Alpha will end up finding us before we find the kids," he warns me. I duck my head, because shit, yeah, he has a point. If he can hear the boys, then the Alpha sure as shit can hear us.

"Sorry." I fall silent. Our footsteps echo as we climb the steps, and I can feel my heart slamming against my rib cage as it it wants to tear free like something out of _Alien_. A moment of morbid curiosity makes me wonder if such a thing is possible, and if I'd have to pull a Night Vale and follow the trail of blood to catch it again.

As we can see, being left in silence does nothing for my paranoid state.

"Do you think if we ask nicely, the Alpha will fuck off?" I ask as we near a set of double doors hidden in the shadows. I raise the flashlight to peer in, only to run into Derek's back as he had stopped short. "Oh, hey, back," I mutter, stepping back. "Dude, wha-"

"Ares, shut up," he hisses, turning on his heel and looking down the hall we just came from, eyes all glowy and blue. I bring a hand to my mouth.

"Shit, sorr-"

"Stop apologizing and just shut up," he snapped, grabbing my arm and pulling me back behind him, all but shoving me back into the shadows. "Don't move," he orders, not looking back at me as he steps out into the middle of the hall, lifting his head and inhaling deeply. I clutch at the flashlight and bring my finger over the pepper spray's trigger, ready to blind any revenge seeking Alphas.

"Derek?" I call out hesitantly, stepping forward. "What's wrong?"

His eyes snap open and he looks over at me in something akin to horror. "Fuck."

A roar, full of rage, of raw power, fills the halls. The walls and windows shake, and I drop the flashlight to cover my ears. It doesn't do much to stop the noise. I never really knew what people meant when they say a sound rattles the brain, that it shakes you down to your core; I do now.

It ends just as abruptly as it started, and I slowly peel my hands away from my ringing ears. "What the seven fucks was tha-" Derek cries out in pain, dropping to his knees and clutching at his head. "Shit, Derek!" I rush to him, but he holds out a hand, clawed and shaking.

" _Don't_." I stop short, staring at him in shock as he drops his arm and curls into himself, shouting, no, _howling_ in pain. I can't bring myself to move - a part of me wants nothing more than to go to him, to try and find a way to make him better, to make it stop. Another part, the part making my gut twist and the hairs on the back of my neck stand and cold sweat prickle at my back, the part you should never, ever fucking ignore is telling me to run. To not look back and just go and pray to whatever Higher Being cares enough to listen.

It ends, finally, with Derek curled into himself. His breathing is labored, and he's shaking. He doesn't move, seems rooted to the spot just as I am. A tense second passes, and I finally bring myself to take a hesitant step forward despite everything telling me to move away.

"Der?" I call out quietly, stooping down to grab my light. His head snaps up, his eyes glowing blue, but there's nothing of _Derek_ in them. I swallow thickly, bringing my light up to see him, which proved to be a mistake. " _Ay Dios mio_ ," I gasp, stumbling back and slamming against one of the doors.

It pops open, and I'm sent tumbling back, falling on my ass in the next hall. The flashlight and pepper spray flies out of my hands as the door slams shut in front of me, clicking as the lock snaps into place. I blink in surprise, taking a second I probably don't have to process just what I had seen in that split second.

If anyone asks, being a werewolf apparently has more than glowy eyes and sharp nails. Derek's face has warped into something more animalistic, and it'd be the coolest thing in the world if not for the fact that he had looked at me like my name is Yolanda Saldívar. There's nothing of Derek in the wolf standing on the other side of those doors. That isn't my dork in a leather jacket, it's something entirely different. Dangerous. _Feral_.

I thought I knew what real fear was. I didn't know shit.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," I chant as I scramble back, away from the doors. My key chain, my pepper spray, is gone, lost in my fall with my flashlight - and don't I feel like the first ten pages of a _Supernatural_ novel - and I glance around desperately for it. I might trust Derek, but that isn't Derek anymore, not right now, and I don't know what's gonna snap him out of that. Whatever the Alpha had done - because there's no way that roar had been anything but the Alpha - it made him lose control. If he has an anchor, now would be a good time for him to get in touch with it, because shit isn't looking all that great. I suck in a breath and hold it as Derek moves toward the doors, casting a dark shadow in the windows.

A growl, low and menacing, fills the hallway. My back goes rigid and my breath hitches in my throat. In front of me, the shadow that is Derek goes still, and I know he heard it too. The growl is accompanied with soft footsteps and I wince at the sudden screeching of metal being scraped. I turn my head, slowly, and all the air rushes out of my lungs at the sight of a pair of glowing golden eyes.

"Scotty?" My voice cracks as dread fills my chest. Scott, _mijo_ , my baby cousin who's literally the embodiment of a spoiled puppy, answers with a low growl as he tears his hand away from the lockers he had been scraping with his claws. The flashlight I had lost rolls lazily across the hall, offering the only light as the hall, which runs perpendicular to Derek's has, no windows outside. It comes to a gentle stop against a wall of lockers, and I eye it before looking back up at Scott, who hasn't moved since he noticed me.

Okay, Ares, you have a problem. Your baby cousin wants to kill you - probably. Your werewolf bro also wants to kill you - probably, but he's on the other side of a heavy door, so don't think about him just yet. Focus on the little one about to murder you. Focus on how to make him human again and not a little murder minion.

Derek always says shit about pain doing the trick, and if I learned anything from the really bad date with that asshole Elliot, it's that tasers fucking hurt.

"Okay, _mijo_ , I want to apologize in advance," I say, carefully shifting for better movement. His growl grows louder, which, you know what, fuck it. I'm probably gonna die anyway, let's get this shit over with.

I lunge at the flashlight, nearly slamming into the lockers as I snatch it up. Scott's footsteps are loud and heavy as he comes crashing toward me, and a steady mantra of _fuckmeshitgonnadiefuckmeshitgonnadie_ repeats in my head as my fingers fumble over the switch. Darkness envelopes the hall as I push the switch down, revealing a bright red button that shines even in the dark. I raise the flashlight and it connects to Scott's stomach as he jumps at me. I have a split second to think _this better fucking work_ and _oh_ mijo _I am so fucking sorry_ as I press the button.

The flashlight pops and crackles, the noise echoing through the hall. Bright white light, electricity, runs across the metal prongs at the tip of the light, connecting to Scott's stomach, and he jerks back, howling in surprise and pain and crumbling to the ground, spasming.

"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" I chant, pulling back. Scott lay on the floor, curled into himself and clutching at his stomach, whimpering. "Scotty?" I ask hesitantly when he doesn't move for a moment, nudging his shoulder with my toe. "You alive, _mijo_?"

He doesn't move for a moment and for that moment I believe I've killed him. But before I can panic about what I'm gonna tell Melissa, he raises a hand slowly and brings up his thumb before dropping it back down and groaning.

" _Gracias a Dio_ -fuck!" The door separating Derek's hall and mine slams open and a figure - Derek - flies out, only to skid to a stop in the middle of the hall. I flick the light back on and shine it in his face, and - "You're eyebrows are back!"

He drops the clawed hand he has up to protect his eyes from the light and stares at me, then down at Scott in surprise. "What'd you do to him?"

"Um, my flashlight kinda sorta doubles as a taser?" I say, flicking it back off and pressing the button again. It's just as loud and bright as before, if not more so since it doesn't have Scott's gut to muffle it. Scott immediately goes back down into a fetal position and Derek jumps back, flinching. " _Ay, mijo, lo siento_ ," I say, turning the light back on to avoid any accidental shocks. " _Á_ _ndale_ , Scotty, let's get you up," I say, hooking an arm through his and hauling him up, nearly falling on my ass in the process. He looks around, as if waking from a daze, then looks at me.

"Are, oh my god, I almost killed you!" he exclaims, throwing his arms around me.

"But you didn't," I remind him, keeping my voice chipper to hide the fact that I was very much about to shit myself. I pat his back and look at Derek, who watches with something like detached amusement. " _Ya, basta_ ," I say, pulling him away and keeping a grip on his shoulders to keep him grounded. "Where's Stiles? And who else is here with you?"

"Allison!" he exclaims, and I have to grab his arm to keep him from taking off down the hall.

"Scott, focus," I snap, tugging him back. "Is it just Allison? Where are they?"

"That was Jackson's car," Derek adds helpfully, stepping up next to us. "I can't say I'm surprised he's involved." I glance up at Derek, narrow my eyes just a bit at him, because I'm still not sure why he isn't batshit crazy anymore.

Shady shit.

"Lydia's with them too," Scott says. "Jackson, Lydia, Allison, and Stiles. They, they're in the chemistry room!" He shoves a hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. "I came out to get the keys from the janitor and we'd get away from the fire escape and run for Jackson's car. We need to go get them and go!"

I blink at him, letting what he said process. "The. The _dead_ janitor?"

"I sniffed him out," he says, glancing up over at Derek. "Used my senses like Derek says to - look, does it matter? We have to go before the Alpha comes back!" I swear to God, these werewolves are gonna be the fucking death of me. I don't say as much, mainly because one of them actually did just try to kill me, which yeah, just gonna internalize that for now. We have more important things to worry about.

"And you went alone."

"Lydia made a molotov cocktail," he says, almost absentmindedly. "It didn't ignite when I threw it though. Which is why we have to _GO!_ "

I inhale deeply and press my fist to my mouth to keep from screaming. Yes, he has a very good point. An excellent point. But I'm kicking someone's ass for fucking up sending Scott out with a faulty bomb. But there's still the fact that I have yet to find out what the hell Scotty's doing here to begin with.

"Okay, okay, wait, one more question!" Scott huffs and throws his head back, and even Derek seems irritated. "Scott, the fuck are you doing here to begin with?"

He draws back in surprise before pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I got a text from Allison." His brows furrowed. "And she got a text from me. But I didn't text her, and she didn't text me and-"

"You never use caps," I say quietly before pounding my fist against my forehead and stepping back away from Scotty and pacing across the hall.

"Ares?" Derek calls out, his voice concerned.

"Fuck, why the fuck didn't I realize before?" I mutter to myself. Scott gets a text from Allison. Allison gets a text from Scott. I get a text from Scott. He doesn't use proper grammar ever. "Scott, what was the first text you sent me?" I demand, pointing my light at his face, and he winces before searching through his phone.

"Um, the one with 'we're fucked, gonna die,'" he says. "Why?"

I pull my phone out of my pocket, and it has about three percent left. I pull up Scott's messages, and show off the first.

 **Human Puppy  
** _Come to the school ASAP_

"Ares, I didn't send you that," he says, voice shaking. "And that's the exact same one Allison and I got." Next to us, Derek lets out a growl, and I probably would have too it I could, considering how I could have - would have - walked into a trap if my phone didn't die earlier.

"It's just like the fucking _novelas_ ," I say, unable to say anything else.

"Hey," Scott says, head snapping up. "You hear that?" I frown, but Derek closes his eyes, tilting his head.

"Sirens," he says, opening his eyes again.

"The Sheriff!" Scott exclaims, looking at me with hope in his eyes. "Come on!"

"Wait, _mijo_ , five seconds," I say, grabbing his arm. He looks at me in confusion. "Did you tell anyone you texted me?" I demand. He makes a face, like he doesn't understand why it's so important. And honestly, thank god I'm here or there's no telling what stupid thing he'd do. Probably find a way to blame all this on Derek.

"Just Stiles. Ares, why does this matter?"

"Shit, okay," I say, looking back down at my phone and selecting all the messages from Scott but the fake and deleting them. "Delete the ones you sent me."

"What-why?"

"Do you want Allison to know you know why the fuck this all happened?" I demand, and he blinks, realization dawning on his features.

"She'd hate me," he says in horror.

"She wouldn't be your number one fan, that's for sure," I say. "Plus, when the cops ask what the fuck you're doing here, you can say you got the text from Allison," I go on, snatching his phone from his hand and selecting his panicked messages when I notice he's too terrified of the idea of Allison hating him to move. "Allison will say she got a text from you, I'll say I got a text from you and brought Derek because he's paranoid and wouldn't let me come alone," I add, deleting the messages and shoving the phone back to Scott. By now even I can hear the sirens, and the reassurance that I'm not going to die tonight is fantastic.

"If Allison asks why you didn't come back," I go on, "tell her you ran into us and had to fill us in on what the fuck was going on and we obviously didn't believe you until the cops got here. When the cops ask, you have no idea why the fuck you were brought here, and I have no idea why the fuck I was brought here." He looks at me in something akin to shock and horror, like he didn't realize I wasn't below lying to cops and cute girlfriends to protect my little cousin.

" _Qué_?"

"You're such a Slytherin," he says finally.

"I'm actually Hufflepuff."

* * *

 **Okay, so that was _Night School_. I didn't mean to take so long to update, and I'm super sorry that it took as long as it did. I had a lot of issues with this chapter, and it probably reflects in what is in front of you, but I got it to a point where I'm satisfied enough with it to present it to you guys and I hope you all enjoy it enough to stick around. **

**Like I said, I went back and revised chapters, and that had a bit to do with why I was gone so long. I can't promise that the next update will be soon, since I like to stay a couple chapters ahead, but since this one gave me so much grief, I have to go back and completely rewrite the next three I already had written. So I'll be back as soon as I can with more for you, promise!**

 **In the meantime, stay cool, guys and I hope you're all having a good summer!**

Translation(s)  
1\. _Masa_ \- dough  
2\. _lengua_ \- tongue (yo, so tongue meat (cow) is like, the best, especially with home made flower tortillas... the bEST)  
3\. Yolanda Saldívar - she's the lady who killed Selena  
4\. Basta - Enough  
5\. _novela_ \- _telenovela,_ soap opera, the super dramatic spanish ones


	15. Chapter 15

As it turns out, a murder at a high school is kind of a big deal.

"This sucks," I lament, wrapping my arms around my middle and pressing against Derek's side in an attempt to use him as a shield against the night's chilly breeze. We stand by the front of a cruiser while Allison, Stiles, and Scott stand by its trunk, far enough apart to have separate conversations but be assured of each other's existence. Jackson and Lydia had left almost immediately after getting out of the school, because apparently their parents live closer and have more money and can buy their freedom. Or something. I wasn't really paying attention, just happy that Jackson finally left.

That boy is so unpleasant to be around. Then again, Derek did kinda traumatize him. We gotta work on that, I think.

Cops are milling around, and there's more inside doing a sweep of the school after Scott and Stiles told them about the janitor. When I asked why the cops were here, Stiles explained - bitterly - that Jackson had made him call his dad.

You can always count on the Sheriff for a good last minute rescue.

I glance over at the kids, and shake my head at Allison and Scott, huddled together and staring at each other with the brightest _Steven Universe_ eyes I've ever seen. Despite their intimacy, they have their bodies open and facing Stiles, who stands close enough to almost be part of the cuddle fest, and they're all speaking in hushed tones I don't care enough to eavesdrop on. Probably just some post near death experience bonding. Allison clutches at Scott's arm, and every so often she'll look up at him as if to make sure he's there and real. It isn't hard to read her face, the hero-worship and the promise of never ending love - as never ending as teenage love is.

She has no idea how close she came to dying at his hands. If he hadn't found me first. If I hadn't remembered my flashlight. If-

"You alright?" Derek asks quietly, drawing me out of my thoughts. I look up at him and blink in surprise at how close he's leaning in, but don't move back. "You're too quiet."

I drop my head and fight back a tired laugh. Someone died; it feels inappropriate to laugh, even ironically. "I'm internalizing," I say, and Derek's concern becomes more evident at my hollow voice. "I'll be back to my normal self in a couple minutes."

"Ares."

I don't look up at him, because I know he's got the judgement thing going on, and I don't need that in my life right now.

"I'm fine," I tell him, dropping my head on his shoulder, tightening my arms around my middle when a gust of wind bites through my sweatshirt like it's nothing. "Just cold. Aren't they supposed to give you a blanket when you go through something traumatic?"

"Usually. Here," he says, pulling back, and I immediately miss his warmth. He shrugs off his jacket and holds it out for me. I stare at it, then up at him, who's looking down at me expectantly. And, okay, it's not like this is the first time I've seen him without his jacket. I've seen him without a shirt, and that was great, very aesthetically pleasing. It's just, this is _his_ jacket. Derek without his jacket is, like, blasphemy.

I shove it back at him, shaking my head. "I can't take your jacket, you live in it," I say before I can stop myself. He arches a brow and I flounder. "You-you'll get cold!"

He rolls his eyes. "Hardly," he says, dropping the jacket over my shoulders. I try to pull it off, despite how nice the warmth is and how it smells just like him and how it feels _safe_ , and Derek grabs my hands and pulls them down. "Ares. Wear the jacket."

I huff, pulling my hands from his. "Yeah, alright," I say, pushing my arms through the sleeves. "Thanks," I add quietly, not looking up at him. The jacket's entirely too big, but it's warm, and it keeps out the wind. Derek snorts when I bring up my hands to show him how the sleeves hang over them completely. He steps in front of me, close, and grabs the front of the jacket, straightening it as best he can. I stare at him in surprise as he zips it up, his expression soft and sincere, his eyes brighter than they should be, considering what we just went through.

He finishes zipping up the jacket and moves his hands to the collar. My hair is caught underneath the jacket, and his fingers brush my neck as he gently pulls it out and pulls the collar up. His hands are warm, and it's all I can do to not lean into the touch.

Which. What.

Before I can think too much about what _that_ might mean, I catch Scott glaring at Derek's back. He looks like Allison's grip on his arm is the only thing keeping him from marching up here. I duck my head into Derek's chest, struggling to hold back a hysterical giggle.

"Scotty's looking at you like you just did him some serious dishonor," I whisper, and Derek snorts before schooling his expression. He gets that laughing when someone just died and a serial killer just tried to end us all is highly inappropriate too. "Maybe he's just jealous that I didn't have to taze you." Derek goes still in front of me, and I frown, looking up at him. He looks away, expression closed off.

The alpha's roar had affected him just as it had Scott. He had lost control for a moment, could have torn down the doors that separated us. But he didn't.

"Why didn't I have to taze you?" I ask. He looks down at me, and there's something in his eyes I can't quite place.

"I found my anchor," he says, but doesn't offer any details. Which, okay, I can see how something like that can be personal.

"Oh." I clear my throat, then look up at him again, squinting at those magical eyebrows of his. "So, like, not that you weren't the coolest thing I had ever seen in my life, ever, but, uh, where did your eyebrows go?"

He stares at me before letting out a defeated sigh and stepping back, dropping his face in his hands. "You are the most impossible human," he mutters, and it's then that the Sheriff and a couple deputies - Silverman and Pauly - walk out of the school. Stiles notices his dad walking out and rushes up to meet him. The Sheriff stops in front of the kids with a look of defeat on his face. Derek and I watch from our side of the car, not wanting to be dragged into anything if we could help it.

"Did you find the janitor?" Stiles asks.

The Sheriff shakes his head. "Not yet, kid."

"Did you check the locker room?" Scott demands, detangling himself from Allison. "It happened in the locker room."

"We checked the locker room, just like you said." Scott opens his mouth to argue, because something in the Sheriff's tone seemed a bit off, but is cut off. "We found blood in there, a lot." Scott slumps back into the car and Allison hides her face in his shoulder. "I believe you that something happened, but until we find a body…" he trails off, shaking his head. "How about you tell me why you were here to begin with?"

Scott glances over at me, quick enough to miss if you weren't paying attention. "I got a text from Allison," Scott says, before quickly adding, "except it wasn't her that texted." Allison nods in agreement, and Sheriff Stilinski's face warps in confusion.

"And I got a text from Scott, but he didn't text me either. Our texts are the exact same too," Allison says, pulling out her phone, and Scott does the same. The Sheriff leans in to see the messages, narrowing his eyes when he realizes what it means.

"You were _lured_?" he demands, and there's anger in his voice. Not at the kids, but at the fact someone would do that to them.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Stiles says, rubbing the back of his head. Sheriff Stilinski pinches the bridge of his nose before looking past the kids at Derek and me.

"Gimme a second, kids," he says, walking past them toward us. I duck my head, so not ready for the Dad Lecture™ about to be unleashed. "Ares," the Sheriff says as he comes to a stop in front of us. "Derek." And he looks like he wants to say something about the fact that Derek's even here, but seems to decide against it. Which is good.

"Hey, Sheriff," I say, pushing up the jacket's sleeve so that I could scratch at my nose. "Shitty night we've been having, huh?"

"Ares, please don't tell me you also got a fake text," he says.

I let my hand drop. "Well, if I did that, I'd be lying to you, and my siblings raised me better than that," I say.

The Sheriff let out a frustrated huff that sounded suspiciously like a curse as he steps back, rubbing a hand over his face. Stiles' head shoots up at the sound, because he has a sixth sense when it comes to his dad, and throws me a _if-you-break-my-dad-I-swear-to-God_ look. It's equal parts adorable and terrifying. After taking a second to compose himself, the Sheriff shifts his attention to Derek.

"What are you doing here?" he demands, not even trying to play nice at this point. His tone, accusing as it is, takes me by surprise, and annoyance flares in my chest. As if the night couldn't go any worse, Derek's about to get accused of murder. Again. Before I can say anything I might regret, Derek's hand catches the jacket's too long sleeve that hides my hand. He gives it a gentle tug, barely noticeable, as he answers the Sheriff.

"Ares called me," he says.

The Sheriff looks skeptical. "Why?"

"'Cause it's Derek," I say. Sheriff Stilinski arches a brow, a prompt to elaborate. "Would you rather I not call anyone at all?" I demand, crossing my arms and shifting my weight. He opens his mouth to counter, but stops short and eyes the jacket I wear. His expression changes, shifting to understanding, annoyance, and then finally settling on resignation.

"Right." He sighs, shaking his head. "Alright." He looks back at the kids, who are watching the exchange - Allison curiously, the boys suspiciously, though Scott more so than Stiles. "I'll have Deputy Paulson swing over here and take your statements while I get these kids sorted out."

"Then we can go home?" I ask hopefully. Because there are tortillas to finish and if there's anything that will make me feel better about every horrible thing that's happened since this shit started, it's making and then eating tortillas.

"Then Deputy Silverman will follow you and Scott home," Sheriff Stilinski corrects. "Make sure you get in alright, and we'll have someone patrol the neighborhood through the night."

This seems sensible, I guess. "Yeah, alright. I can deal with that," I tell him. He nods, and I kinda really hate how relieved he looks that I'm not going to argue.

"Same for you, Derek," he goes on. "Where are you staying?"

Derek shifts, just a bit, and I look up at him expectantly. Maybe if he admits he's been squatting in that burnt out shell of a house, Sheriff Stilinski can actually make him go somewhere that Crazy Kate Argent doesn't know about, and therefore can't pop in and shoot him dead, as she has been known to do.

"I'm at the Super 8 on Mason right now."

Oh? That… I was not expecting that. Sheriff Stilinski glances down at me, then back up at Derek when I make a point to not meet his questioning look.

"Right, well, we'll have someone make sure you get there alright." He gives us another once over before turning and going back to whatever cop related thing he has to do so we can all go home.

"You left the house?" I ask quietly, looking up at Derek. He doesn't meet my gaze and keeps his expression carefully neutral, but nods. "Alright. That's…" I can't think of anything, so don't bother trying. "Alright."

* * *

It takes less time than I thought for the Sheriff to let us go. Derek had been the first to be let go, and I think he might have stayed until Scott and I were free, except for the fact that Allison's parents were about to pull into the parking lot, and the whole hunter thing was a problem. It isn't until after I walk into the kitchen that I realize I still have his jacket.

And that's just because Scott points it out.

"You still have Derek's jacket," he says, following me in as I flick on the light and make a beeline for the workstation I had left behind. Melissa isn't home yet, because apparently her boss is the second coming of Dolores Umbridge and doesn't let her off when her son just almost died.

"Jack-oh shit," I mutter, pulling at the collar before sighing tiredly and pulling it off. Not that I want to, but it's nice and probably has sentimental value, and I don't want to get flour all over it.

"Why do you have it anyway?" Scott goes on, and it sounds like he's trying to keep from sounding annoyed, but he fails spectacularly. I shrug, dropping the jacket on the back of a chair and dropping my keys and phone on the counter.

"I was cold. He made me take it." I pull up my sleeves and wash my hands, scrubbing a little harder than necessary. "I dunno, he was trying to be a decent person?"

Scott scoffs, dropping into a chair. "No, he wasn't," he mutters, like he knows something I should know. I narrow my eyes at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He looks up at me, opens his mouth to say something, only to promptly snap it shut and shake his head, as if he thought better of whatever he planned on saying. "Nothing. Nevermind." He waves a hand dismissively. I consider calling him out on it, but I'm not in the mood to have the argument it would spawn.

He stays silent, watching me jump back into work as if I didn't just take a few hours break to get almost killed by a baby werewolf being mind controlled by a revenge driven werewolf. Which is probably something he needs to know. The revenge thing, he already knows about the near murder thing.

"The spiral means revenge," I say. Scott does a double take when he registered the words; he had been falling asleep, his head bobbing. I almost feel bad for dropping this on him. But he needs to know.

"What?"

I choose my words carefully, knowing he'll know if I lie, but also knowing that letting him in on the whole Accusing-Deaton-Of-Being-In-On-It thing would be _bad_. "I got Derek to tell me today before I got the first text." Scott doesn't move from his seat. I glance at him, and he's staring at the ball of dough I'm rolling out. He looks tired. He looks scared. No, scratch that, he looks terrified. I take a breath and set the rolling pin away and straighten.

"Scott." He looks up at me. "We're going to figure this out, okay?" I tell him, and he huffs, shaking his head.

"How? Ares, that thing has _mind control powers_ ," he said, his voice rising. He takes a breath and dropped his face in his hands. "I almost killed you."

"That wasn't your faul-"

"I _wanted_ to kill you." Ope. I blink in surprise. That's. Well, that's not good. Scott picks up his head and looks up at me. "To kill everyone."

It's not every night your little cousin admits he wanted to murder you. But considering the way life has been going since this new year started, I've come to realize that I shouldn't be too shocked by this. And right now, the little cousin needs reassurance that he isn't some kind of monster, werewolf thing aside. It seems as if my own mental breakdown will have to wait.

"But you didn't," I said, pointing the rolling pin at him and keeping my voice light. "And that's what's important, _mijito lindo_." I crinkle my nose at him when he looks at me in disbelief.

"How is that-"

"The Alpha had you mind-controlled, dude," I remind him. "It wasn't _you_ wanting us dead. It was the Alpha projecting _it_ wanting us dead _onto you_. There's a big difference." I pause, wondering how big the difference actually was. Hopefully big enough. "And you can't blame yourself for getting mind-controlled, because even Derek got screwed up by it, so really, if the werewolf expert got fucked up, what hope could you have against it? And that might not sound reassuring, but it is. Trust me."

He stares at me blankly for a second before snorting, shaking his head. "You're the worst at this." He smiles up at me. "Thanks." He folds his arms on the table and rests his chin on them to watch me work.

"It's what I'm here for. Crappy but sincere reassurances." I reach out and grab the smallest ball of dough and drop it in front of Scott. "Here, play with this. It'll make you feel better."

He does as I say, rolling and mashing the _masa_ in his hands like play-doh. "Ares?"

" _Mande_?"

"I'm sorry I almost killed you."

I pause my work and glance up at him. He doesn't look up at me, and instead focuses on the _masa_ in his hands. As much as I want to say it's fine, that it's okay, it's really not, even if it wasn't his fault.

"Just… don't do it again, okay?"

He nods, still not meeting my gaze. "Okay."

* * *

 **Ayy, Happy Holidays!**

 **I absolutely did not mean to disappear for so long, and I'm super sorry. But I have winter break now, and I'm gonna see how much I can get done with this (though it probably won't be much because I'm slow). Anywho, thanks to those who have been reading, thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites, they mean a lot! Welcome to the new followers, thanks for taking a chance with this story. If you like the story so far, be sure to leave a review/follow/favorite.**

 **Hope everyone has a good holiday season!**

Translation(s):  
 _Mijito lindo -_ pretty little boy  
 _Mande_ \- Polite/formal way to say _què_. Kind of like saying "Yes?" instead of "What?" as a response


	16. Chapter 16

" _Your sister is attempting to reach you on your cellular device._ " I groan, pulling my pillow over my head as the ringtone continues. I only just started dozing off. " _Your sister is attemp-_ "

"Okay, okay," I mutter, reaching out and grabbing my phone from the nightstand, squinting as I slide it to answer. "Yeah?"

"Aracely Maria Delgado." _Ay Dios_ , she used my full name. She's going to finish the job the Alpha tried to get Scott to start. "Why did Melissa just call me saying you and our little cousin were chased by a serial killer?"

I pull the phone away from my face and inhale deeply, hold it for a four count, and then slowly let it out. It's okay, Ares. She's half a country away. She can't actually kill you right now, unless she somehow learns _brujerìa_ , and she's too smart of fuck with that… right?

Fuck.

" _Tia es una mentirosa_ , okay?" I start.

"Oh, really?" And wow, my dear sibling actually sounds hopeful. I kinda feel bad for having to tear it down for her.

"Yes," I go on. "I never actually saw the serial killer chasing the kids."

" _Aracely_!" I wince and pull the phone away from my ear. "Are you fucking serious right now?!"

"Alicia, I'm _fine_ ," I reassure her. "I mean, I didn't even know there was a serial killer there until the cops showed up. I was just looking to pick up Scott."

"That doesn't make it any better, _pendeja_! You could have been killed!"

Huh. I wonder if this is how the boys feel when I get onto them for doing stupid shit. I must get it from her. I roll onto my back and drop an arm over my eyes. "Well, I know that _now_." I pause, frowning as I think back to her opening line. Melissa had called Alicia. Oh god, what if she had called Aaron? What if she called _Dad_. "Does Aaron know?" I ask quickly, sitting up. The movement is too fast, and my head spins, but not so much that I can't hear her reply.

"Yes, he knows," she answers, and I barely suppress a groan. "It took nearly twenty minutes to talk him down from going up there and finding that fucker himself _._ "

"Fuh-huh-huck," I groan, dropping back down heavily and covering my eyes again.

"He had his gun packed and everything," Alicia goes on, sounding almost smug. "He's gonna call you later, by the way."

"Fantastic." I lift my arm off my eyes. "Um, does… does Dad know?" I ask hesitantly. Alicia makes this noise in the back of her throat. It sounds an awful lot like Derek's growls, and I'd be impressed if it was anyone but my sister.

"I haven't talked to him," she says sharply. "He's probably not even home. Do you want me to tell h-"

"Jesus, no!" I lift my arm off my eyes. "Can you imagine? He'd tell Elisa and she would eat that shit up." I shake my head. "No, don't tell him about it, okay?"

She sighs. "Sure, _mija_. You're still in trouble when we come see you, but if you're really okay-"

"I'm the okayest. No one's more okay than me right now."

"Alright. Alright, fine, go back to sleep, I know it's early over there."

I turn my head and squint at the clock on my nightstand. Five twenty AM. "Ugh, no, I should be getting up now anyway. Can't let something so stupid as a serial killer keep me from my morning run."

"You still do that?"

"Yup," I say, hauling myself up. "I didn't come up here to get fat." She makes a noise, so I go on to assure her, "I like to eat and need something to balance out all the food."

" _Ten cuidado_ ," Alicia orders, and I roll my eyes as she goes on. "If I get another call from Melissa, I'm not going to talk Aaron down, and we _will_ come get you."

"Yeah, yeah. Go to work."

"Love you, _hermanita_."

"Love you too, Seester."

I end the call and drop my phone by my side. It's still super dark out, and I don't feel like dealing with blinding myself, so I reach over and flick my scentsy on. I sit for a moment, not wanting to move after the effects of my sleepless night hit again full force. Nothing like the fact that a monster werewolf just tried to get your little cousin to kill you to keep you up staring at the ceiling for the entire night.

"Fuck." I rub my face and stand, dragging my _cobija_ after me as I shuffle out of my room and down the stairs. Have to start the Turtle so I won't freeze to death. Which is bullshit, because I almost never had to start my car this early back in Texas.

I pause in front of the door, gathering my blanket tightly around myself and grabbing my keys from the hook I made Scott put them on last night. I unlock the door and flick on the porch light. Taking a breath to mentally prepare myself for the cold, I throw open the door and step out.

And promptly collide with a very solid body.

" _Què_."

I blink and step back to get a look at what exactly got in my way. And then blink again, because the body in front of me looks a lot like one Derek Hale to my poor sleep deprived brain.

"Ares?" he asks carefully, like he's not sure if I'm all there, and honestly, he isn't too off the mark. I blink up at him again, just to make sure he isn't actually be a figment of my tired imagination, then look past him at the Camaro parked behind my Turtle but leaving room for Melissa's car when she gets home. Alright then, he's real.

" _Qué estás haciendo aquí?_ " I demand. "You're in the way."

His eyebrows shoot up and he glances back at the cars. "Ares, I texted you fifteen minutes ago. You're not running today."

I crinkle my nose at him. " _Tch, mentiroso_ ," I accuse, pulling my blanket tighter around me as the cold comes into the house. "You didn't text."

He sighs and takes my shoulders, turns me around, and gives me a gentle push back inside. "I said we weren't running today because of last night. You told me to, and I quote, 'Fuck off, Derek Hale, I do what I want.' Except with typos."

I frown and try to think back to this supposed conversation. Any and all recollections stop just before Alicia called me. "I have no memory of this."

"Literally fifteen minutes ago. I even told you I was coming to stop you." He drops his hands and I turn back to see him dig his phone out of his pocket. I scratch at my nose, swaying as he holds up the screen for me to see. I squint at it, and holy shit, he's right.

 _Just so we're clear we're not running today  
_ (D)

 _im runin i cant get fay  
_ (A)  
 _Ares no  
_ _The Alpha is still out there  
_ (D)  
 _teh aplha can eat a dick im runnin  
_ (A)  
 _Jesus christ Ares I'm coming over don't leave  
_ (D)  
 _Fucj yiu dere Hale o do hwat i want  
_ (A)

Wow, I am absolute shit at texting when I'm dead. I narrow my eyes at the timestamp and yup, it was only about ten minutes before Alicia had called. Derek pulls the phone away before I can see what he has as my contact name, but I swear I saw a burger emoji in there, the asshole.

"You can barely stand, you sure as shit can't drive, and I don't see you making a single lap," he says. "You'll just hurt yourself."

I make a face at him. "Derek Hale, do you care?"

"Would I be here if I didn't?" he demands. I blink up at him in surprise, and his mouth snaps shut when he realizes what he just said. He huffs in annoyance and glares to the side. "Just stay here, okay?" he mutters, stepping back toward the door. Before he makes it, I reach out and grab his arm, dropping half of my blanket in the process.

"You're dumb," I tell him, and he shoots me a look. " _Quedate,_ _lobo tontito_ ," I go on, and his expression softens.

"Ares…"

"You're right, the Alpha is still out there. Stay. Safety in numbers, right?" I tug his arm. "Come on, you came out here to take care of me, and you're probably just as dead as me right now."

He sure as hell looks it. He has dark circles under his eyes, more prominent than usual, his hair looks like all he did was run his hands through it to make it look somewhat tame, and I know the look of slept in clothes anywhere. Dude had just as shitty a night as I did.

He looks towards the door, considering his options. "We can crash on the couch and watch shitty early morning infomercials 'til it's time for me to go to work," I compromise.

He frowns. "You're going to work?"

"Still like my paycheck, so yes?"

He shakes his head in disapproval. "You're impossible."

"And you're staying," I counter.

He sighs and I know I've won. It's a good feeling. Nice and warm. "What about Scott?"

"Since when do you ever take Scott into consideration?" I demand, and he arches a brow before giving a small nod.

"Right."

He reaches back and shuts the door, locking it after him to keep out stray alphas and Stiles-es, and gestures for me to lead the way. Gathering my blanket around me so I don't step on it and fall flat on my face, I turn and make my way to the living room, not bothering to turn the light on when I get there. My poor eyes can only take so much abuse. This proves to be a mistake, as the living room turns out to be a landmine of shoes, courtesy of one Scott McCall.

But we make it back to the couch easily enough - I only tripped once, and Derek caught me before I could actually do any damage to myself or Melissa's coffee table. I pull the blanket off long enough to drop down gracelessly. I drape it across my lap and pat the seat next to me, looking up at Derek.

" _Siéntate,_ " I order with as much authority as I can muster in my current condition. Either it's more than I realize I was capable of, or Derek felt sorry for me, because he plopped down with no arguments. I hold out the blanket for him, and he stares at it for a second before glancing down at me.

"Derek Hale."

"Ares Delgado."

I blink in surprise. Can't say I ever expected him to turn that on me. I shake my head. "Take the blanket."

Rather than start an argument, he takes the blanket and drops it in his lap. I nod in approval and slouch down into the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table and leaning my head on Derek's shoulder.

"Why were you up so early?" I ask, breaking the silence that had fallen between us. He doesn't answer immediately, and I think he isn't going to at all. Not that I blame him.

"I couldn't sleep," he admits. "Last night…" he pauses before letting out an annoyed huff. "Last night sucked."

"Yes. Yes, it did." He glances down at me and I crinkle my nose at him. "But hey, it coulda been worse."

"Oh?"

"I didn't have to taze you?"

He snorts. "Ah, the highlight of the night." The noise that comes out of my mouth sounds suspiciously like a giggle. Derek lets out a surprised laugh and pulls back to look down at me. "What was that?"

I shake my head and bury my face into his side. " _Perdon_ _._ I am very tired," I tell him, my voice slightly muffled. I pick my head up and he situates himself back into his previous position.

"I can tell."

"Hey, you're tired too," I remind him, flicking his arm.

"Yeah, but I'm not code switching like you are."

"But you seem to understand it well enough." I let what I say sink in for a moment. Huh. Derek knows Spanish. What a surprise. "Dude, kudos to you for being bilingual. Proud of you, buddy. Gonna get bank wherever you end up working."

He shakes his head. "I think you need to go back to bed, Ares," he says, and I make a face as he continues. "You're weird when you're tired."

I wave a hand dismissively. "Get used to it, Hale. Most of my life is spent tired."

"And suddenly everything makes so much sense," he drawls.

"Asshole," I say through a yawn. "See if I feed you later."

"I think I'll live."

"Most optimistic thing you've said since I've known you." I grab the blanket and pull it up to my shoulders, yawning as I rest my head on Derek's arm. We sit quietly for a moment.

"I thought we were going to watch shitty infomercials," Derek says, his voice close and quiet.

"Lost the remote."

"Ah."

We fall back into silence, and it's comfortable. A welcome feeling after last night. It's soft, and warm. Safe.

* * *

" _ARES! YOUR BROTHER IS CALLING!"_

It's amazing how these few panicked words can so easily rip me out of full REM sleep.

"Holy shhhiiiit!" I gasp, lurching forward and tearing the blanket off of me, smacking something hard enough to sting my hand in the process.

"What the _fuck_!" is the responding growl, and I twist to face the sound. My vision blurs, and my head spins from the sudden movement, and for a moment I'm too disoriented to recognize where the hell I am. But it passes quickly enough, and there's Derek Hale sitting on Melissa's couch next to me, leaning forward and holding his nose in his hands, blanket thrown across his lap.

" _ARES!"_

Scott's shrill cry and heavy footsteps pull my attention from the ailing werewolf next to me. There are currently more pressing matter at hand than figuring out why I was just sleeping next to Derek on the couch.

Sure enough, I can hear the ringtone designated for my brother nearing, growing louder and louder, like the tolling of funeral bells. Which is what everyone around me will all be subjected to if I do not answer that call.

" _Your brother is attempting to reach you on your cellular device. Your-_ "

"You already missed a call!" Scott exclaims, as he rushes down the stairs, stumbling but catching himself at the bottom.

" _Hijo de su chi-_ FUCK!" I jump up and slam my shin into the coffee table. "Fuckfuckfuckshit!" I hiss, hobbling over to Scott where he stands frozen at the bottom of the stairs.

"Why is Derek here?" he demands.

"Der - _ah, no se,_ I'll remember later," I say through gritted teeth, trying not to focus on the fact I'm gonna have a huge, gross bruise on my leg now. Scott narrows his eyes at me, pulling my phone back when I reach for it. I bare my teeth at him, and his steps back in alarm. "Gimme my damn phone, Scott!" His eyes go wide and he extends his arm out toward me, and I snatch my phone out of his hand.

" _-is attempting to reach you on-_ "

"Aaron!" I exclaim happily, whirling away from Scott and planting a bright smile - fake and pained though it is - on my face. Derek looks up at the sudden change in my tone, eyes wide in surprise. He's still holding his nose, but I can't see any blood between his fingers, and I kinda have more important things to deal with before figuring out what the deal is with his presence. "What's up, broski, everything cool?" I ask, limping across the room as quickly as I can.

"You have exactly ten seconds to convince me to not go get your ass and bring you home."

Hoo-fuh-huh-huck me. Gently. With a chainsaw. I rush out of the living room as quickly as I can without falling over a shoe or hurting myself anymore that I already have.

"Okay, I know what _tia_ told you and Alicia, but I'm fine. I'm completely okay," I assure him as I walk down the hall to the kitchen and hope it gives me enough privacy considering the pair of werewolves in the next room. Not that they haven't already heard enough.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Aaron demands, and I duck my head.

"I was sleeping. It's what people do-"

"Ares."

"I was!" I huff. "Look, are you gonna yell at me, 'cause if you are, I'd appreciate it if you would just get it over with."

There's silence on the other side, and for a second I worry that he's just preparing his lecture. Which, based on experience, will be worse than anything Sheriff Stilinski has thrown at me.

Finally: "We sent you to Melissa to get you out of trouble, not for you to get into it," he says, and it hurts more than it should.

"And here I thought it was to get me out of my horrible depression and downward spiral of destruction after a rage induced joyride," I counter dryly, then wince, remembering the werewolves in the living room. While Scott has some idea of what lead to my coming to live here, he doesn't know the whole story. And Derek doesn't know anything, and I'd like him to not know too much about my crazy just yet.

"That too," Aaron answers without missing a beat. I throw my head back and wait for him to continue. "What the hell were you even doing going to that school alone, _tonta_?"

I crinkle my nose at the insult. "I wasn't alone," I snap, and immediately regret it.

"Who the hell was with you then?" Aaron demands. "So I can kick their ass for letting you go."

" _Ay_ , it doesn't matter," I say quickly, because poor Derek doesn't need any more attempts on his life. And knowing my brother, he'd finish the job Kate Argent didn't.

"Don't make me ask Sonya," he threatens. "It'll end badly for everyone involved and you know it."

"I haven't talked to Sonya today."

"You will."

I let out a frustrated groan. " _Ya, dèjame en paz!_ Haven't I been through enough?"

Aaron goes quiet for a second. "Okay. Okay, I'm done."

"Thank you." I sigh "I'm fine, bro, seriously."

" _Si dices, hermanita_. But if you pull this shit again, I'm going and kicking your ass and dragging you back home, got it?"

I roll my eyes. "Can't kick my ass if I'm dead," I sing.

" _Què-_ "

"'Kay, love you, bye!" I say quickly, and hang up before he can get mad. When he doesn't immediately call back, I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Crisis averted, way to go Ares. Glancing back down at my phone, I note the voice mail from Deaton flashing in the top corner. It's only 7:50, and I don't have a shift for another thirty minutes or so, but I'd bet money the message is something along the lines of him letting me know that work was not happening for me today. What is it with Melissa telling everyone we almost died?

And speaking of said _tia_ , she should be home by now. Did she sleep through Scott's freakout? I wish I had that skill.

Whatever, I have to deal with the two werewolves that are suspiciously quiet in the living room. It's worrisome, is what it is. I make my way back down the hall, ignoring the throbbing pain in my leg, because apparently I can't get a break.

Scott's still standing by stairs when I get back to the living room, glaring at Derek, who stands next to the couch, my comforter folded in his arms. Which. Aw. He's the best.

"Holy shit, that went way better than I thought it would," I exclaim, making my presence known. Scott looks up at me, expression quickly warping from annoyance to hope.

"He isn't coming to steal you back to Texas?" he asks hopefully, and Derek looks between the two of us, expression concerned when he realizes Scott's question is serious.

"Not this time," I say brightly, limping to Derek and holding my hands out for the blanket. "Lucky for you. Y'all'd be hella fucked without me."

"You can say that again," Scott mutters as he deflates. "So what's Derek doing here?"

I take the blanket from Derek, juggling it for a second before finally having a proper hold of it. "He came to stop me from going running because occasionally he's smarter than me," I say, crinkling my nose at him. A smile threatens to break free from him, but he quickly schools his expression as Scott goes on.

"Okay, but why is he here now?"

"I needed a cuddle-buddy," I say without missing a beat, turning away from Derek, who makes a funny sort of noise in the back of his throat, kinda like he's choking, to head up the stairs. Scott, who's face is twisted in disgust, throws his arms up to cover his head like the melodramatic nerd he is.

"Ares! No, don't say that!" he exclaims.

" _Ay, soflamero_ ," I chide, walking past him up the stairs. "Derek, don't let Scott chase you away, I'm feeding you."

"You don't ha-"

"Yeah, Ares, don't-"

" _Que te quedas!_ " I say over my shoulder. "If you're gone when I come back down, I'm changing my running time and not telling either of you when it is to stop me!"

There's a moment of silence, and for a second I worry my threat might not have worked. But lo and behold, a defeated chorus of " _Fine_ " follows me up the stairs, and I nod in victory. You gotta know when to count the little things.

* * *

 **Happy Valentine's Day, y'all.**

Translations

1\. _Tia es una mentirosa -_ _tia_ is a liar  
2\. _Ten cuidado -_ Be careful  
3\. _hermanita -_ little sister  
4\. _cobija_ \- blanket  
5\. _Qué estás haciendo aquí?_ \- What are you doing here?  
6\. _mentiroso_ \- liar  
7\. _Quedate,_ _lobo tontito_ \- stay silly wolf  
8\. _Siéntate -_ sit down  
9\. _Perdon_ _-_ I'm sorry  
10\. _dèjame en paz -_ leave me in peace  
11\. _soflamero -_ melodramatic  
12\. _Que te quedas -_ that you stay


	17. Chapter 17

**Oh, hello second chapter of the day. Consider this your Valentine's Day gift** (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

* * *

It doesn't take me more than ten minutes to make myself decent human - what with basic morning hygiene -, to listen to Deaton's message, confirming that no, Scott and I are not allowed to come into work today, and poke my head in Melissa's room to check if she's home, which she is.

Ten minutes is not a long time. Ten minutes is, like, nothing. So imagine my surprise when I come back down to the living room to find that the house has been invaded by a stray Stilinski. The younger Stilinski to be precise.

"Hey, what's this one doing here?" I ask, hopping off the bottom step and gesturing to Stiles, who sits next to Scott on the couch. Both boys watch Derek as if he was here for nefarious reasons. To his credit, Derek does a really good job at ignoring them as he sits on the arm of the loveseat.

"My dad didn't want me home alone while he was at work, so he told me to come here," Stiles answers, not looking away from Derek.

"Aw, he loves you. Not quite sure he loves us, though," I add under my breath. Derek snorts, and Stiles lets out a scandalized gasp as he grasps at his imaginary pearls.

"Rude!"

"I'm feeding you, I can say these things." I cross the room. "Come on, Der. Come help so you don't have to be stuck here with them."

"Oh thank god," he breathes, jumping up and trailing after me. Scott and Stiles glare after him, and I point a finger at them to keep them from getting up and following. "Hey, and your mom is home, so don't be loud," I tell him. They don't answer.

"You know Scott's going to listen in, don't you?" Derek asks when we get to the kitchen. I make my way to the fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs and the roll of chorizo.

"We can always _whisper_ ," I say, leaning in close to him and dropping my voice conspiratorially. He struggles to keep a grin off his face as he leans in even closer, and whispers in my ear.

"He could still hear."

His breath is warm, and I can feel my face heat up at how close he is. Which. Never really been a problem before, but before he wasn't whispering things in my ear while standing _right there_. My mind wanders to last night, his fingers brushing my neck, and-

NOPE.

He pulls away, not bothering to hide his grin as he takes the carton of eggs from my hands and moves to the counter. I glare at him, hoping my face isn't too red.

"You're an asshole," I accuse. Stupid werewolf. "But if it bothers you that much, I did just update my spanish playlist on Spotify." I bounce excitedly as I pull my phone out of my pocket. "Added, like, twenty Gloria Trevi songs." His smile is soft, but he wipes it away and rolls his eyes melodramatically when he sees me looking up at him, as if he just remembered he's supposed to be an asshole werewolf. Which he is.

"Gloria Trevi."

" _Nineties_ Gloria Trevi," I tell him, setting the chorizo on the counter and pulling a pair of pans out to put on the stove, all the while opening my music on my phone. I hand it over to him, and he blinks in surprise as I roll up my sleeves and move to the sink to wash my hands.

"Or you can find one, since you're the _guest_ and all."

"Wow, thanks. I'm so honored," he says flatly, but I can hear the grin in voice. "Jesus, how many playlists do you have?"

"I need one for every mood," I tell him lightly.

"'Post Steven Universe Binge' is a mood?" he asks.

"I am a diverse human being." He snorts and continues to scroll as I dry my hands with a clean dish cloth. "Will you just pick one already?" I demand, moving around him to pull five plates out of the cabinet and set them down.

"What's 'I swear I'm still Ace?'" he asks. "And no grammar? Ares, I'm shocked."

Oh. Oh god I forgot that one existed.

"Not that one!" I exclaim, reaching for my phone. He arches a brow and holds the phone up over his head, and presses play. And because my phone has an asshole music app that doesn't like to start the first song at the beginning, we're graced with Childish Gambino's profound final lines of "Heartbeat."

" _-we dating? Are we fucking?  
_ _Are we best friends? Are we something in between that?  
_ _I wish we never fucked, and I mean that...  
_ _But not really, you say the nastiest shit in bed and it's fuckin' awesome_."

I drop my face in my hand in embarrassment. Derek is silent in front of me, not moving. "God dammit, Derek Hale," I mutter, picking up my head as the next song started. For what it's worth, Derek's face is far more red than mine as he slowly lowers his arm and holds the phone out to me. "Just… leave it, the damage has been done." I say, snatching the phone from him and dropping it on the counter. "It'll bug Scott to no end that we're listening to sex songs anyway."

"Sorry," Derek says, not sounding sorry at all, and I wave a dismissive hand.

"All my mystery. Ruined," I lament. "It's fine, dude. I love this song anyway," I tell him, dancing past him to stand in front of stove. He doesn't seem to know what to do, and wow, I can't believe my playlist would have broken him like that. "Do me a solid and grab the cheese and ketchup from the fridge," I order as I get started on Stiles' eggs. Two fried eggs for the kid with the fried brain. "And there's a package of hash browns in the freezer, grab that too. Actually, go ahead and start those," I tell him, turning on the second front flame on the stove.

He does as I ask, and we lull into a quiet - aside from the popping of oil and my hums with the music.

"So, when your brother called…" Derek starts. I nod, knowing that I should have seen this coming.

"He was understandably upset," I say carefully.

"Scott was serious about him coming to take you away."

"Yup." I don't look up at him. "Aaron is really…. He's protective." I snort at the understatement. "He didn't even want to let me come out to Beacon Hills after-" I stop short, glancing up at Derek. He must have noticed, but he didn't say anything. Bless him. "It was Alicia's idea, and it took her a week to convince him to let me come up."

That had not been good week.

"So he wants you home?" Derek asks. He's voice is suspiciously devoid of emotion.

"Yeah." I flip the eggs and grin when they don't break. "He's been looking for an excuse to steal me back since I got here."

"Serial killing Alpha seems like a pretty legitimate reason."

I roll my eyes and blow a raspberry, catching Derek by surprise. "Please. I'm comfortable here now, crazy werewolf shenanigans aside. I'm staying. Gonna help you nerds get your shit together, finish school…" The eggs finished, and I set them aside on the top plate before looking up at Derek. "Fried, scrambled, or with chorizo?" I ask.

"Uh, scrambled is fine," he says, and I go back to my cooking. "What would you do if your family decides to take you back to Texas?" he asks after a moment, and Lord help me, he actually sounds worried.

"I'm an adult, Derek Hale. It's not their choice, it's mine. You of all people should know that I don't let people tell me what to do. And I love my brother, but if he tries to force me back to Texas, _your_ ass better be there to stop him." I bump him with my hip, and he lets out a surprised laugh. "Use those asshole werewolf powers for good."

"I can do that."

"Good."

Derek moves the pan of potatoes, now finished, to the back of the stove and steps back, looking like he's trying not to laugh as I sway with music, humming along. "This has to be the last thing I'd expect you to listen to," he admits. "Especially after after listening to that cartoon song twenty times."

I shoot him a look. "First of all, that cartoon song is "Stronger than You" from _Steven Universe_. Second, we only listened to ten versions of that song. And third, I'll have you know, I know I know _all_ these words."

"All of them?" He doesn't seem convinced, and I've never been more insulted in my life.

"The _entire_ playlist."

"Even the dirty bits?" Now he's just fucking with me, the asshole. Well, two can play that game.

"Especially the dirty bits."

Derek smiles, and it was all teeth. "Prove it." I narrow my eyes at him, not wanting to sink to his level as I moved his eggs to the waiting plate before I'm tempted to do something like burn them. "Thought so," he says smugly, and I turn off the stove's flame so the house doesn't burn down. He arches a brow as I turn on him, picking up the song at the tail end of the chorus.

" _\- And I'm singing: fuck yeah, give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want. It's innocence lost…_ "

Derek's face goes completely blank as I continue on to the next verse. He takes a step back as I move toward him, and if I channel my inner Sonya - Sonya, brilliant, occasionally sex personified Sonya - as I move in close, well, the asshole brought it upon himself. He stumbles back into the table and leans back as I lean forward, pulling him down by his shirt and dropping my voice to whisper in his ear:

" _If I get a little prettier, can I be your baby?_ "

I lean back to see his face flush bright red and can't help but bring up a finger and boop him on the nose, because honestly, he's adorable when he's flustered.

"You're the worst and I hate you," Derek croaks, sliding out from under me. He clears his throat and looks away. I laugh and move back to the stove, turning it on to continue making breakfast.

"I can change the playlist-" The song changes and I throw my hands up and bob my head with the new beat. "After this song!"

Derek shakes his head. "It's not as bad as the last one," he allows.

"Lana Del Rey is a queen. She could stab me and I would thank her."

"That doesn't sound very healthy."

"And yet here I am. Not giving a fuck." I glance up at him and grin.

We - meaning me, because I don't trust Derek near Scott's food - finish cooking without any more issues. I set Melissa's plate to the side, covered, for her to find when she wakes up, making a note to make sure to hide away some tortillas for her.

" _Niños!_ " I call out as I turn my music off and tuck my phone away into my pocket. They waste absolutely no time running into the kitchen. They skid to a stop at the entrance and regard Derek coolly. "Sit and eat before I throw it out," I threaten, setting down their plates at the table. Scott looks like he wants to argue, but instead makes his way to the table sullenly.

"Not poisoned?" Stiles asks, breaking the yoke with his fork. "Derek _did_ help you."

"No, but I still can," Derek offers, and Stiles pulls his plate close to him, shielding it.

"You know, Ares," Scott starts, leaning back in his chair. He sounds too cheerful for this to be good. "I didn't realize you were such a good _singer_."

My soul. How it leaves my body.

Stiles snickers and Scott narrows his now gold eyes at Derek. I inhale deeply and set my plate down, any desire to eat fleeing, much like my will to live. "If you'll excuse me. I'm going to offer myself to the Alpha now."

"Ares, no."

I ignore Derek and walk out the kitchen. Let that little asshole cousin of mine fend for himself. I make my way to the living room and drop onto the couch. The remote mocks me from the coffee table, and I groan as I reach forward to grab it.

"News, news, ugh _._ " I turn off the tv and throw my head back, lamenting my current life situation.

"There's never anything good on in the mornings." I roll my head over to see Derek walking up, two plates in his hands and two water bottles under his arm. "You need to eat, Ares," he says, setting one plate on the table in front of me and dropping the water bottle on the couch.

"Why are you such a mom today?" I demand, forcing myself up and grabbing the bottles out of the way so he has somewhere to sit. He drops next to me and gives me a flat look.

"Says the girl who made everyone breakfast."

"Okay, but I grew up in a pretty traditional Mexican house. That shit's, like, hardwired in me." I reach forward and grab the plate. "Melissa has been slowly but surely training it out of me, bless her."

"That's horrible," Derek says, sounding like he isn't sure if I'm being serious or not.

"It's the patriarchy," I say sadly, crinkling my nose at him. "What, your family never had the girls cooking and cleaning while the guys hung around watching TV and talking man things?" It comes out before I can stop it. "Um, don't answer that."

"It's fine," he says. He pauses, as if thinking of his answer. "And no. My mom was the Alpha. No one would have dared told her to do that stuff. And Laura was next in line, so…" he trails off. I look up at him in surprise. He never talks about his family. No more than I do.

"Are werewolves matriarchal?" I ask, going for a more general question.

"Not all of them. My family was." He pokes at his food. "My father was human. He took my mom's last name."

"Wow." I look down at my food.

Derek clears his throat and straightens. "Eat your food." I make face at him, but know he's right. I had a traumatic night and I haven't eaten. Maybe that's why I haven't had my crash yet. I don't have the proper energy to.

I'm sure the science in that is wrong.

I bring my legs up to cross them, only for pain to erupt from my shin when I try to tuck it away. "Fucking shit," I hiss, my eyes watering. How the hell did I forget about that?! I hold my plate out, and Derek takes it without prompting.

"What's wrong?" he demands, and I ignore him in favor of propping my foot on the coffee table and pulling up the leg of my pjs up. "Christ, Ares!"

A dark purple bruise bloomed sometime while I was making breakfast, not too big, but still ugly looking. Derek sets the plates on the table, and before I can stop him, he grabs my leg and pulls it into his lap, turning my entire body with it.

"Dude, what the hell- Derek Hale, do _not_ take away my pain!" I snap as he lays a hand over the bruise, the other wrapping around my ankle so I can't pull away. "I'm gonna kick you in the face!" He ignores me, and those gross black veins spread up his arm as he drains away the pain. "Masochist," I accuse, crossing my arms.

He pretends I didn't speak, because he's so good at that. "You should have your aunt look at it when she gets home."

"Hah! Yeah, no." I lean back into the couch's arm. "She's got enough to worry about. I'm fine. This is, like, the fifth time I've bashed myself of this damn table, anyway."

"Hopeless human."

"Wow, great use of alliteration, Hale."

"I take pride in my literary skills."

"I'm sure it brings all the English Majors to the yard."

He snorts. "Have to beat them off with a stick."

I throw my head back and laugh. "Hey." I nudge him with my other foot to get his attention. "I appreciate you, Derek Hale. Even if I still think you're a masochist."

He shakes his head, looking away. "Yeah, well." He clears his throat. "I appreciate you, too, Ares Delgado."

Derek Hale. Werewolf after my damn heart.

* * *

 **So that happened.**

 **Hope you liked these two chapters, they've been sitting in my docs for a while and I've made some progress on the next, so I figure, why not make up for being gone for two months?** _(real talk though, don't expect much for a while, bc I'm horrible and it takes forever to get anything done)_ **ANYWHO. Be sure to leave a review/follow/favorite if you liked it!**

 **Interested in Ares' playlist? I got bored and made it instead of studying. Check it out here on Playmoss:  
** /en/galanerd/playlist/i-swear-im-still-ace

 **A Pinterest board! Because it's easier than tumblr and playing on it makes me feel productive, even if I haven't written in a month. Check it out here:** galanerdwrites/khmbb/

 **So yeah. Check those out if you're interested. Send pins and/or rec songs. Until next time!**


	18. Chapter 18

***"Guess Who's Back" plays faintly from the next room***

 _(some previous chapters have been edited; not enough to change anything major. Most of it is sentence level stuff and little details, but you might wanna check out ch6, bc that has the only change worth noting)_

* * *

"Whatever happened with Deaton last night?" I ask, dropping down onto the bleachers and setting my water bottle on the bench by my side. After breakfast, my leg no longer felt like it was going fall off because of that stupid coffee table, so I told Derek I was going to run. He was welcome to join, but he tried to stop me, I'd punch him in the face again. Because honestly, if I'm not going to be able to use work as a distraction to the shitfest that happened last night, then I need something else. And barring learning that your werewolf bro was almost killed by your little cousin's girlfriend's homicidal aunt, running is a great way to clear your head.

And a clear head is exactly what you need to remember that said werewolf bro had been hellbent the previous night on killing your boss, which, as you might have gathered, is not a fantastic way to get a raise.

Derek, who has changed out of his clearly slept in clothes into his usual running attire before we came to the track, huffs in annoyance and snatches the water bottle away, popping it open with his teeth and downing, like, half of it, the asshole.

"Finishing off my water isn't going to get you out of answering my question," I tell him. "It's just gonna make me more annoyed at you." He narrows his eyes at me, as if thinking over whether it's worth risking my wrath. "Dude, you said you wouldn't hurt him." I make my tone accusing, despite knowing that Deaton is very much alive and well and unaware of how close to death he came, if his voice message from earlier this morning is anything to go by.

"I didn't," he mutters, handing the bottle back out to me - it's much lighter than it had been five seconds ago, but not so much that I would die of dehydration.

"And I am ever so proud of you, _Lobito_ ," I tell him. He doesn't seem to know what to make of the name, and so says nothing. "But did you figure anything out? You were so sure Deaton was up to something."

"I'm still not entirely sure he isn't," he says, and I take a drink as he goes on. "But he isn't the Alpha."

I inhale the water, and Derek's eyes go wide in concern as I cough it up, gasping and sputtering. "The Alpha? _Deaton_?" I shake my head and look up at him dubiously. "Dude, he can't be the Alpha."

"I know that now," he shoots back, frowning. "He never left the clinic yesterday and then you called."

"Not to mention the cats love him," I say before I can stop myself. Derek's expression is one of pure confusion, and it's adorable. It's all I can do to not take my phone out and take a picture of him and send it to Sonya. "When Scott got bit, the cats started hating him. He can't even go into their room without them all yelling at him." I shrug, try to play it off cool. Judging by the look on Derek's face, I have failed spectacularly. "I kinda just figured all werewolves were cat repellent."

"Ares. No." He shakes his head. And wow. Derek Hale's judgement eyebrow game is strong today. "That's not how that works."

"It was a logical guess!" I exclaim, throwing an arm out. He arches a brow.

"Try harder next time."

I throw my bottle at him, and he catches it easily. "Where did you even find that article?" I ask as he drops next to me. "Was it even a reliable source? Was it peer reviewed?" He shoots me an annoyed look and I throw my hands up at him. "Dude, you were, like, ten seconds away from killing my boss last night. I don't even want to know what you would have done it I wasn't there," I tell him, and judging by the way his glaring at the track, the night would have been a whole lot worse. Derek probably would have gone back to jail, and if he had hurt Deaton, his ass could stay there for all I care. "Like, I know finding the alpha is a thing we're trying to do and all, you know," I gesture vaguely. "For the children, but you can't accuse everyone who comments in _The Daily Prophet_."

He clenches his jaw. "I'm… sorry I went after your boss," he says through his teeth, and I can't help but grin.

"And next time you get a sketchy lead, bring it to your local Mexican to double check, okie doke?" He doesn't see me looking at him expectantly, so I poke his arm to get his attention.

"What?"

I tilt my head to the side. "Okie doke?"

His eyes go wide in realization. "Ares. I'm not saying-"

" _Okie. Doke._ "

He inhales deeply. "Okie doke," he mutters, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. "If you tell Scott I said that, I'm going to kill you, I swear to god," he snaps, but there's hardly any truth behind his threat. I nod and stand, raising my arms up over my head and bending back a bit to stretch. My sweatshirt - a relic from my days as a chubby child, and honestly, I should just cut my losses and turn it into a crop top for the summer - rises a bit too much, but you know, the stretch feels too good for me to care.

"Derek Hale," I say suddenly, and he looks up from where he was staring the track intently. I frown, following where he had been staring and seeing nothing of interest. "Weirdo," I accuse, and he doesn't answer. "What're you doing today?"

He looks at me suspiciously. "Why?"

"Wanna learn how to make sugar tortillas?"

He arches a brow.

* * *

When Derek gets back to Melissa's house after stopping by his room to clean up, he looks nothing like a person who was brainjacked, got less than three hours of sleep, and went running. He's even dressed like a normal member of society, even if it is just jeans, a Henley and his jacket, which I sadly decided should probably go back to him.

I, meanwhile, no doubt look like a sleep deprived hobo. My hair, frizzed from the hair dryer because Scott is horrible and lost my diffuser, ended up swept up into a bun with more strayaways than bun. Throw in a sweatshirt that I had stolen from Warren last semester and a pair of universe print leggings I forgot existed, and I look like I'm about to show up to an eight am class fifteen minutes late with Starbucks. Still, looking like a sleep deprived hobo isn't going to stop me from enjoying some Gloria Trevi.

It had been decided that Derek Hale was _not_ allowed to choose the music this time around.

"Why are we making these?" Derek asks. Note the _we_. Because I'm totally making him help. His jacket has been abandoned on a chair, and he stands next to me at the table, tearing at the _masa_ and rolling it into balls just like I had shown him earlier. I'm sure there are more productive things we can be doing, like figuring out what to do about the Alpha, but let me tell you: Derek Hale making tortillas looks as ridiculous as it sounds, but in an utterly adorable kinda way, and it's doing things to my heart right now. And I'm not ready to give that up to go look for a serial killing werewolf.

Meanwhile, Scott and Stiles are sulking in the living room, not allowed to leave the house but refusing to go upstairs, using Melissa's sleep as an excuse.

"Sonya and Warren require that I pay them tribute for leaving them in Texas," I tell him. "So I send them food." I pause. "Also, I feel like Melissa deserves some "sorry for chasing a serial killer" gifts."

"I feel like you making people food to get in their good graces is something that happens a lot," he says dryly.

"My dude, you have no idea," I tell him, rolling the last of the dough into a ball and dancing away from table to turn on the stove and pull out two rolling pins from a drawer. "My food is all I really have going for me in terms of my worth. Even the evil step mother I'm running away from couldn't say anything bad about it, other than it'd make me fat." It all tumbles out before I can stop myself, and I glance at Derek, checking his reaction as I hold out a pin to him. He frowns, opens his mouth, then closes it again as he takes the pin.

"How many times have you gone charging into dangerous situation in the past month to protect Scott?" he asks. "You're practically his Alpha at this point, and human Alphas are unheard of." He shakes his head, as if he can't believe he has to say it aloud. "You're worth more than your food. Anyone who says otherwise obviously hasn't seen you walk into a building knowing there's a rogue alpha in there to save your cousin."

I blink up at him, processing his words, and when they hit, I'm going to absolutely blame the lack of sleep for my reaction.

"That's the nicest thing…" He looks down at me, brow arched before his expression warps in alarm.

"Christ, are you crying?"

"No!" I snap, wiping at my eyes with my sleeve. "Dog allergies, you stupid werewolf." I clear my throat, taking a breath and making a point to not look at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him smile and shake his head.

"Are you going to show me how to do this so I don't ruin your tribute?" he asks, changing the subject, and I nod, sniffling one more time before refocusing on the project at hand.

"Okay. So. The thing about sugar tortillas is their diameter is smaller, but they're thicker than normal tortillas," I tell him, sprinkling flour on the table and grabbing two balls and placing them in front of us. "Now watch." I demonstrate for him, flattening the dough with practiced ease. I look up at him and can't help but grin at his lost expression, which turns into a glare at me when he realizes I'm laughing at him.

"You try," I tell him. He huffs, and I watch as he rolls out an awkward oval thing that's a tiny bit too thin. However, it isn't so bad that it'll fall apart, and they all go the same place anyway. "That certainly was a good first try," I tell him, taking it out from under his pin before he can try to fix his mistakes. He scowls.

"This is ridiculous."

"This is fantastic," I tell him, I setting the tortilla away with my own and plopping another ball in front of him. "We'll make a Mexican housewife out of you yet."

He laughs, a real laugh that crinkles his eyes and shakes his shoulders. A full, unguarded laugh, and it's as if the heaven have opened and the sunshine is literally coming out of this asshole werewolf and my heart.

My heart cannot take this abuse.

But because apparently _I'm_ the masochist, I go on.

"Now you just gotta turn up the music and do the _cumbia_ as you make sure you don't burn the tortillas."

" _Cumbia_?"

I look at him. "Um. Yes? Derek Hale, if you're gonna be spending the day cooking for your man and making him think that he's actually the one in charge, and raising your kids right with the _chancla_ , you need to know how to _cumbia._ "

He snorts, turning his head to hide his reddening face. And I truly feel blessed to be around to witness it. Once he's calmed, he asks, "What's a _chancla_?"

I gasp, absolutely scandalized. He frowns, likely wondering what he did wrong. "The source of many a latino child's nightmares," I tell him solemnly, dropping my head and giving it a little shake.

"Um…"

I smile up at him and crinkle my nose at him to let him know I was - mostly - just kidding. "It's a sandal," I tell him. "All in one disciplinary tool. There's a video on youtube I saw a while ago about it, I'll send it to you," I tell him, and he nods slowly, as if he's wondering if it's too late to jump out of this partnership.

"You're hard to figure out sometimes," he accuses, and I blink in surprise.

"I was just kidding. Kinda." I frown, wondering if I spoiled his mood. He looks down at me, and suddenly I'm at the end of a very intense werewolf stare. "Sorry?"

"It's not _bad_ ," he says, and the intensity of his gaze doesn't waver. "Just…" he struggles to find a word, and ultimately gives up when it doesn't come to him. His expression softens, and before my poor sleep deprived self can fully understand what he's doing, he raises a hand. My breath catches in my throat, and he'd have to be a very deaf werewolf to not hear my heart pick up the pace as he rests his hand on my cheek.

"Derek Hale." It comes out a very unattractive croak. "What are you doing?"

The corner of his mouth quirks up and he moves his hand to brush his thumb over the side of my nose.

"You have flour on your face."

" _Jeesuhs_!" I jerk away and bring my hands to my face, scrubbing at it with my sleeves. In front of me, Derek laughs. "How long has it been there?"

"At least two songs," he says.

"You ass!" I grab the rolling pin and raise it at him, and he flinches away, still grinning. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?" I demand.

He shrugs, pushing the pin out of his way as he returns to his place at the table. "It was cute," he says, and then goes very still upon realizing what he just said. I blink at him and hope I'm brown enough that the warmth spreading across my face doesn't turn me red. He clears his throat and makes a point to not look at me, and honestly.

"I'm always cute, I'll have you know," I tell him, breaking the silence before it can get heavy and weird. He looks at me, but doesn't say anything. "I am adorable," I go on, pointing at my face. "Look at this. Angelic." I pause. "I mean. Not right now, because I'm running on adrenaline and, like, less than three hours of sleep," I say. "But usually." I shake my head. "We can't all be on the cover of paranormal romance novels, Derek Hale."

He groans. "Oh god, not this again."

I grin at him. "So I'm thinking for a subplot, Fenrir is gonna have to battle a nomadic fairy troupe when they stake claim on his territory."

"Stop talking," he all but begs, but I can totally tell he's loving this.

"And Celine is actually a fallen star."

"Why. Why do I hang out with you?"

"It's because I'm utterly adorable and cute," I tell him, smiling up at him sweetly, bumping his hip with mine. "You said so yourself. No takesies backsies."

"Takesies backsies," he parrots in disbelief.

"Also because I take none of your shit. I'm, like, perfect courtier material according to Castiglione," I tell him, and he just stares at me.

"How do you even know that?"

"Stiles isn't the only one who falls into the Wikipedia rabbit hole," I tell him. "Now. The tortillas."

* * *

I should have known better than to think I would go the day without being cornered by Melissa.

"So," she starts, and I pause mid-throw, Scott's jeans balled in my hands above the washer. I glance up at her. She looks tired, but the kinda tired you get when your nap goes on way longer than you mean it to and you wake up not quite knowing what year it is. Her hair is swept up in a ponytail and there are smudges under her eyes, but she's changed out of her scrubs and into comfy stay home clothes.

Derek had left less than twenty minutes ago - after staying for a late lunch and being forced to take leftovers with him so he has something to eat later, because werewolves cannot exist on diner food. The sheriff had come to get Stiles less than five minutes after, and I feel like we dodged a silver, monkshood laced bullet.

Still, I'm pretty sure Stiles is gonna tell and I'm gonna get all sorts of shit about it at work Monday night. But that's besides the point, because Melissa is standing at the doorway of the laundry room looking like she wants to interrogate me.

"Heey, _tia_ ," I say, dropping the jeans. She arches a brow, and for a split second I feel like I'm staring at Alicia. I'm reminded that while she doesn't often tap into it, this woman is very much a Delgado, and our clan tends to pop out some… intense women. " _Estás enojada_?"

She regards me for a second. "I'm a little confused," she says finally, then shakes her head. "Actually, no. I'm _really_ confused." She doesn't raise her voice, but her tone shifts, and it's pretty obvious that she isn't pleased with me. I can't really blame her. "You didn't think calling the cops would be a good idea?"

I drop my gaze and press my hands to my stomach. "Not really?"

"Not really?" She steps in, and I have to physically stop myself from stepping back.

"I was looking for Scott." I pause. Try to collect my thoughts and form a believable lie. "I didn't know anything was actually wrong, and I didn't wanna bother-"

"Ares." Her voice has softened some, and when I look up, there isn't the anger I've grown so used to seeing from Elisa. " _Ay, mija_ ," she says, and I can't help but be surprised at the Spanish - it isn't a language she uses often, unless translating at work. "I love how you look out for Scott, I do. But you need to let us look out for you too." I'm not entirely sure to say to that, so I don't say anything at all. She sighs and holds her arms out. "Come on. Scott says you haven't cried or anything yet."

I drop my head back. Narc. " _Tia_ , I don't need-"

"Ares Delgado, come hug me," she orders, waving her hands at me.

"Are we really gonna hug it out in the laundry room?" I ask.

"This is my house, we're hugging wherever I say we're hugging." Unable to argue with that logic, I step around the laundry basket at my feet and walk into her arms. She pulls me close and I drop my chin on her shoulder. "If anything like this ever happens again, you either call me or the sheriff."

"What if you're at work?" My voice cracks, and I inhale deeply to try and reel in the sudden emotions.

"You still call us first." She pulls back, keeping her hands on my shoulders. "Ares, you're not alone here, _mija_." I open my mouth to argue, but she raises a hand to stop me. "And I know. I know you had Aaron and Alicia back home. But you and I both know Elisa kept them away from you." I can't help the sudden intake of breath at the mention of my dad's wife. "And I know you're still getting used to being away from her. But I'm here for you, and the Sheriff and the boys are here for you too, alright?"

I nod, fighting the lump in my throat. "Alright."

She smiles, dropping her hands. "And apparently your drug dealer is here for you."

The lump disappears as quickly as it had formed. "Drug deal- Oh." I scowl. "Did Scott say something?"

She nods. "He did, but honey." She drops her head to the side. "I saw you guys when I came home." Oh.

Oh shit.

"You - you did?"

"It was adorable," she goes on, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone, and my stomach drops. "I couldn't help it. I took a picture."

" _Tia,_ noo - Ope." I blink in surprise at the picture as she holds her phone out for me to see. The picture in question has Derek and I absolutely dead to the world on the couch. The blanket has fallen into our laps, and I'm practically lying on Derek. He's got his head dropped on mine, getting a faceful of curls.

"If Aaron ever sees this, Derek is going to die," I say finally. I look up at Melissa. "This can never leave this phone. In fact, you should just delete it."

Melissa pulls her phone away and cradles it to her chest, looking offended. "What, no! It's cute. I'm saving it forever," she says, putting her phone away. "What's his name again?"

Knowing I'm not going to get out of this, I decide to just answer. "Derek Hale."

Her eyes light up in recognition. "Oh, I remember that family. Horrible about the fire." She pauses. "He's older than you by a few years, I think."

I frown. "I. I literally have no idea how old he is," I admit, thinking over our time hanging out. From our less than conventional meeting, to the diner and our runs, it never occurred to me to ask. "It's never come up." I shrug. "I'll ask him later."

Melissa arches a brow at me, and while it isn't completely displeased, there's a hint of something. "Uh-huh."

"It's fine," I assure her.

"I'm sure it is," she says, sounding very much like she isn't convinced it is. But she shakes her head and waves me off. "Go take a nap or something."

I frown and gesture to the washer and drier. "I'm doing laundry though."

"I'll finish. Let me feel useful in my own house. You're my niece, not my maid." She leads me out of the room by the arm. "And I don't want you cooking anymore today. Or cleaning." She stops at the door and looks at me. "You need to relax, Ares. Last night is going to catch up to you and I don't want you passing out in the kitchen. Now get, or I'm grounding you." I blink in surprise as she steps back in the room and closes the door in my face.

Alrighty then.

I stare at the door for a second, collecting my thoughts and trying to process what just happened when a thought occurs to me. Alicia and Aaron both called. Alicia said she hadn't heard from Dad, and Aaron didn't mention him at all, but if Melissa had called them…

" _Tia_ ," I call out, slowly opening the door and poking my head in, trying to beat down the panic that has been bubbling just below the surface all day. She looks up from the machines, her initial scowl immediately melting away when she sees my expression.

"Ares, what's wrong?"

I clear my throat - not trusting my voice for a moment - as she crosses the room again. "Did… did you call my dad?" I ask. _Does Elisa know_? is what I mean.

"Oh, honey," and once again I find myself wrapped in her arms. "No, Ares, I didn't call him," she assures me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. She pulls away. "I'm not going to lie, I considered it, I really did," she says. "He might be an idiot sometimes, but Manny is my brother, and he's your father, and he still loves you." There isn't a lie in her voice, and I know what she says is true. Just because he happened to marry a horrible human, and then spent all his time at work…

I have long since come to the conclusion that I will make a therapist very rich one day.

"But," Melissa goes on, "I know that he'll just tell Elisa, and nothing good can come from that." I nod. "You alright now?" she asks.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. I just…"

"I know." And there's really no way she actually does know, because she doesn't have to deal with teenage werewolves and serial killers, but I need comfort where I can get it. She pats my arm. "Now go take a nap."

A nap is the last thing I need. Being alone is the last thing I need, and I have half a mind to run away to Derek's motel and bother him, but I know that if Scott's being put under house arrest, then so am I.

But if he's under house arrest…

His door is open, and when I knock on the doorframe to announce my presence, he looks up with a scowl. He lays sprawled on his stomach on his bed, his phone in his hands in front of his face.

"I know you were mind controlled last night, and that's plenty reason to be annoyed but what's with the face?" I ask, walking in and shooing him over. He mutters under his breath, rolling over completely once, and I flop down on my back next to him. I close my eyes, inhale deeply and try to let the tension out when I exhale. It doesn't work as well as I wish it would, but well enough that I can push down the emotions Melissa had unleashed with the whole "you are not alone" and "Don't worry about your evil stepmother" speeches.

When I open my eyes and look over to Scott, he's staring at me with something between awe and horror in his eyes. "What?"

"I literally smelled you repression," he states. I draw back and stare at him incredulously, and he shakes his head. "I know it sounds weird, but your scent changed and-" he must see how lowkey creeped out I am, because he stops, for which I am eternally grateful.

"My _scent changed_?"

"It was a little change, it's hard to explain," he says before burying his face in his crossed arms. "Nevermind," he grumbles, and then his head shoots back up. "And you shouldn't be doing that," he says, narrowing his eyes at me. "It's not healthy."

I can't help but laugh. "Is worrying over people's mental health something all werewolves do?" I ask. "You sound like Derek."

Scott groan. "Don't say that." He shakes his head. "Jesus, what's with you two, anyway?" he demands, and I frown, not entirely sure what it is he's talking about. "He was here, like, all day."

"I was teaching him out to make tortillas." I shrug and extend my arms, reaching my hands up. "I dunno, dude, we were just hanging out."

"But _why_?"

I drop my arms on my stomach and turn my head to look at Scott. He's glaring at his phone, despite the screen being off. "Why do you hang out with Stiles all the time?"

He makes a disgusted noise. "That's not the same. Stiles is my best friend. Derek's, like-" he struggles to find a suitable word and shakes his head. "And you aren't helping."

I let out a confused laugh. "I'm sorry?"

He mutters something into his arms. "Whatever. Just. Don't bring him around so much anymore. I'm not comfortable around him."

I sigh. Scott's probably never going to be comfortable around Derek, and I can't entirely blame him. Derek did screw up his first impression pretty badly. "We'll do our hanging out somewhere else, then," I offer.

"I'd rather you didn't at all," he grumbles, and before I can remind him who I hang out with isn't any of his business, my phone goes off from where I have it tucked in my waistband. Grumbling about werewolves and their issues with other werewolves, I pull my phone out and unlock the screen to reveal a message from Sonya. I roll on my stomach to avoid dropping my phone on my face, and the bed dips as Scott doesn't even try to hide that he's looking over my shoulder.

 **BFF5L (1 new message)**

 _your bro texted._  
 _it was weird._  
 _but also kinda exciting._  
 _your brother is hot_  
(B)  
Can you not?  
(A)

"Ew, she thinks Aaron is hot?" Scott asks, and while I agree with his sentiment, I don't like the whole reading over my shoulder thing. I glare him. He scoots away, but is close enough to still look over my shoulder, the jerk.

 _What did Aaron want?_  
(A)  
 _he wants to know who you were with last night_  
 _does this have to do with why you had to hang up last night?_  
(B)

Scott grins. "Oh, man, Aaron will murder Derek if he finds out he went with you." His brow furrows in thought, and he reaches for his phone.

"I will feed you to the _cucuy_ if you so much as think about telling him," I threaten, and it surprises a laugh out of him and he drops his phone.

"The _cucuy_? I haven't heard that threat in years."

"The _cucuy_ is serious stuff," I tell him, turning back to my phone. "Always ready to steal naughty children, even if they happen to be werewolves."

 _I went to go get Scott from the school_  
(A)  
 _but you went with another human_  
 _WAS IT YOUR SERIAL KILLER_  
 _DID YOUR CRIMINAL BOYFRIEND KILL SOMEONE_  
(B)  
 _He isn't a criminal_  
 _And he isn't my boyfriend_  
 _And it wasn't him_  
(A)  
 _It was him_  
 _And you denied boyfriend second, you like him_  
(B)  
 _He's my FRIEND_  
(A)  
 _I already told Elliot you had a badass criminal boyfriend_  
 _He got really mad_  
(B)

"Isn't Elliot the guy you tased?" Scott asks. For a second, I consider not answering him; I don't particularly like talking about Elliot. But it's an entertaining story in retrospect.

"Yeah. He was a loser, and honestly, I dunno what I ever saw in him."

"Did he have money?" Scott asks, and I choke out a laugh. Then pause, and think back to when I first went out with him. He had been charming-as charming as a freshman frat wannabe could be-and he paid for most of our dates, even when we were supposed to split the bill.

"You know, actually, yeah. Yeah, he did," I admit, and Scott laughs, shaking his head. "But a girl's gotta draw the line, and he started acting all cringey."

"And you tased him?"

"After we broke up, Sonya, Warren, and I went to a party and he was there." Scott grins, noting that this is where the fun starts. "This asshole starts talking shit, and Warren-have you met Warren?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"I've heard you talking to him though." He pauses. "He kinda reminds me of Stiles."

I frown and do a quick mental comparison. Shrugging it off, I go on. "Well, Warren can't hold his alcohol at all, and Elliot decides he's gonna try to start a fight with my poor drunk Asian brother."

"And you tased him?" he asks.

"He pissed himself. It was fantastic." I sigh, basking in the memory of the days that followed. Everyone knew Elliot was being an asshole and had it coming, and so the shitty subtweets he directed at us after was well worth it, honestly.

"That's so gross!" Scott says with a laugh. I nod.

"Right? At least you didn't pee yourself," I say, and he nods, grateful for that.

 _Stop telling people I have a boyfriend, it's gonna get back to my family_  
(A)  
 _I've only told him_  
(B)  
 _And he'll tell everyone. And tell Aaron to chill._  
(A)

I drop my phone to the side and look to Scott. "Do you think she'll stop spreading these lies?"

He looks to the distance, pretending to be deep in thoguht. "Absolutely not," he decides, and I drop my face into the pillow. "Hey, bright side, maybe if Aaron and Alicia find out, they'll come visit!" The _and murder Derek_ is unsaid but heard.

Demon child. I should have used a stronger taser.

* * *

 **My dudes. I would like to apologize for taking so long in getting this out to you. It was going to be two chapters, but I decided since it takes place on the same day (Thursday, the day after "Night School") I would just mush it together, and so I present to you this monster. I didn't mean to take this long, but I just got hit with some serious block. I've slowly but surely chipped it away, and I have an idea of where everything is gonna fall from here out, but it's still gonna take a minute to get out.**

 **A serious thank you to everyone who's stuck out with this story while on this hiatus and to those who have faved/followed and left reviews. You're the bestest. Welcome to the new followers too, you're also the bestest. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, and as always, point out any spelling/grammatical errors you might catch.**

 **Catch ya on the flip side, y'all**

Translations

 _Chancla -_ sandal, flipflop, slipper, disciplinary tool  
 _Estás enojada_? - Are you mad?  
 _cucuy -_ the boogieman


	19. Chapter 19

The Turtle won't move, and this is a problem.

I inhale deeply through my nose and hold it for a second before releasing it, and maybe at this point, I should look up a yoga class to learn the proper way to take calming breaths. It does little to make me feel better, because when I try to turn the key to start the engine, it only cranks and cranks and never catches and-

" _Hija de tu puta madre,_ why aren't you _working_?!"

The day had started off so well. Derek and I went for our run, and he had finally let me play the entire "Stronger than You" playlist, though not without some serious guilt tripping on my part. Deaton let me come back to work; that is to say, he didn't immediately kick me out when I showed up unannounced when I usually come in. When I left work, I even found myself thinking that things were finally, if only for a little bit, chilling the hell out after the nightmare that was Wednesday night. I mean, what better way can a Friday shape up?

But halfway home the Turtle started to shudder, to move sluggish and not want to accelerate - and for terrifying moment it hadn't wanted to move faster than the pace of its namesake across a particularly busy intersection and I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes before the Turtle finally _finally_ jerked forward out of the way of a turning truck. After that, I came to the conclusion that this car needs to be out of the street, and managed to pull into the vacant lot of the abandoned business that seemed to have run out of money in the middle of construction. To say the least, it's super creepy and I want nothing more than to get the seven hells out.

Except the damn Turtle refuses to turn back on. Which is completely unacceptable.

 _How much do you know about vehicles that no longer wish to turn on?  
_ (A)

I don't have to wait long for a reply, and I'm almost surprised by how quick he is to answer.

 **Stilinski the Elder (1 new message)  
** _wats wrong w ur car_

I groan, having forgotten his atrocious text writing. He's as bad as Scott.

 _It won't turn back on. It started acting weird and almost got me killed on Gore and Jefferson so I parked at that stupid old restaurant that was never finished and it won't turn on  
_ _Pls help I don't wanna stay here with the minimum wage serial killer out there  
_ (A)  
 _Sit tight kid omw  
_ (SE)

I could cry, and not just because of his proper use of omw. Sitting back, I try to fight off the lump growing in my throat. It's irrational to start crying over something like this, but the Turtle has been with me since my _quinceñera_. Aaron and Alicia had promised that if I could come up with at least a third of the cost working at my _Tio_ Julian's _rancho_ the summer before, they would help with what was left. I did, and they kept their promise, and I learned how to drive in the Turtle. It took me to and from late night track meets and shenanigans with Warren and Sonya.

I love my Turtle, and it could not have chosen a worse time to crap out on me.

But I'm not willing to give up on it yet, and reach down to pull the lever to pop the hood before throwing open the door and hopping out. I don't know nearly enough about cars to justify my actions, but I figure it wouldn't hurt to see if there's anything obviously wrong. There isn't smoke coming out from under the hood, and I take that as a good sign.

As I unhook the latch to lift the hood, I notice an SUV pull into the lot, parking not far from where I'm stuck. It isn't Argent's red SUV, but a knot forms in my stomach all the same. It's a newer model - Sonya would know what it's actually called - and the windows are tinted as dark as is legal.

Beacon Hills isn't Laredo; there is absolutely no reason those windows need to be as dark as they are.

The driver's window lowers, and a woman calls out.

"You alright there, sweetie?"

The question is innocent enough, but it doesn't nothing to ease my worries. I nod, raising a hand in acknowledgement

"I'm fine, thank you. It's just acting up some," I say, and hope it's enough to get her to move on. It isn't. She frowns, and seems to think for a moment. It feels artificial, like when Elisa would act the saint around my Dad, and I would end up grounded for at least a week.

"Have you called someone already?"

"I called Sheriff Stilinski," I tell her, figuring it wouldn't hurt to namedrop. "He's on his way now."

She nods, and someone else might not have noticed the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. "Well," she says. "How about I stay with you until he gets here?"

If it had come from anyone else, I might have appreciated the gesture. But the idea of this woman with her fake concern makes my skin crawl in a way Elisa never did. "Oh, no, I wouldn't want to bother you-"

"Not at all," she says, and is already turning off her car and hopping out. "I have a niece about your age, and I would hate for her to have to wait on her own if something like this had happened." She smiles brightly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Were you going to try and see what was wrong?" she asks, coming beside me, and I have to make an effort not to step back.

She smiles like Elisa.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I know enough to actually tell anything," I admit, not looking at her. I wonder if she notices how uncomfortable she's making me, or if she's just ignoring it. She pats my arm, and I go still.

"Well, how about you pop her open and I can give it a look," she offers. "My father made sure I knew my way around the under of a car growing up." It isn't a request, and I know better than to not do as she asks. I step back once it's open, and she leans forward. An rather intrusive thought that sounds suspiciously like Aaron prompts me to slam the hood down while she's under and make a run for it, but I'm not interested in the consequences if that fails, and only just stop myself from reaching out for the hood.

"You know, you look familiar," she says, not looking up. I'm not entirely sure what to say to this, because I feel like I would have remembered this lady if I had ever seen her before, even if it was just on a run to the grocery store.

"Oh?" is my oh so brilliant response.

She straightens, and I am 100 percent not okay with the way she looks me over, because seriously, _bad touch vibes_. "You don't happen to be related to Scott McCall, do you?"

Why the fuck does this Bad Touch know my baby cousin? I draw back defensively, shifting my weight almost without thought, and realize I left my keys in the car. Left my pepper spray in the car. My freaking luck.

"How do you know Scott?" I demand, not bothering to play polite anymore. Her eyes go wide, and something like excitement - my stomach twists at the sight of it - crosses her expression before it adopts a more placating mask.

"Sorry, I should have introduced myself," she says, straightening and raising a hand out to me. "My niece Allison is dating him."

Oh. Oh fuck.

"I'm Kate Argent."

 _Fuck._

"Oh."

She tilts her head curiously, and I wish more than anything that I had taken the chance to decapitate her when I could have. _Murderous bitch._ Her hand is still extended, and I stare at it for a moment too long before forcing myself to take it in my own. Her shake is tighter than necessary, and I pull away as soon as I can, shaking my sleeves over my hands to hide the tremblings.

"I'm Scott's cousin," I tell her, and I hate how my voice comes out strained. If she notices, she doesn't mention it, but amusement dances in her eyes.

"Ares, was it?" I give a single nod and she smiles. It does nothing to brighten her face. "I've heard a lot about you from Allison." She goes back to inspecting the Turtle's insides, and I clasp my hands together, digging my thumb nail into my palm to keep me from doing something stupid.

"Good things?" I look around desperately, hoping to see the Sheriff on the street. No such luck.

"Oh, absolutely," she assures. "She mentioned how you went to go look for Scott Wednesday night." She looks up at me. "That was very brave of you."

"I didn't know anything was wrong until the cops got there."

"Oh, honey, don't sell yourself short." She pauses, seems to collect her thoughts. "She mentioned how you had Derek Hale with you."

My nail all but cuts into my palm.

She looks up at me and grins. It's absolutely lewd, and I scrape the inside of my hand while keeping my expression carefully blank. There aren't any cameras in this corner of the lot. I could still decapitate her. No one would know. "You know. Tall, dark hair, broody? Absolutely stunning physique-"

She stops short and straightens, looking over my shoulder, and thus her life is spared. I look back as a blessedly familiar cruiser pulls into the lot, parking close by. Sheriff Stilinski jumps out, and it's all I can do to not go running to him. He regards Kate Argent coolly as he walks up, and doesn't seem to fall for her disarming smile. It makes me feel a shit ton better, honestly.

"Ares, you alright, kid?"

I nod, stepping closer to him when he comes to a stop next to us in front of the Turtle. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice how she slips something into her pocket.

"Fine." He arches a brow at the short response, but before he can question it, I go on. "Ms. Argent stopped to help and wait with me."

"Please, call me Kate." Her voice is slick and I swear I've heard the same exact tone from Elliot and _BAD TOUCH VIBES._

"Kate," he says, drawing her attention away from me. "Thank you for staying with Ares."

"Oh course. I better be on my way now," she says, and turns to me. "It was nice meeting you, Ares."

"You too."

She couldn't leave quick enough, and the Sheriff notices the way I let out a relieved breath once she's finally gone.

"Ares-"

"I'm good," I assure him, and he frowns. "I am, I promise." I take a breath to gather myself. "She kinda intense?"

He allows it. "So is her brother." He gestures to the Turtle. "So what's going on here?" he asks, looking under the hood as Kate had. I huff, crossing my arms and glaring at the Turtle in betrayal.

"It was being all stupid. It didn't want to accelerate, and when I turned it off, it didn't want to turn back on."

He hums in acknowledgement, and tweaks something by the battery. "It doesn't look like there's anything wrong with it, kiddo. Have you checked the oil?"

"At least every two weeks. It's not that."

"Does it have gas?"

I narrow my eyes at him, and he takes it for the answer that it is. "Alright, alright. Try it again." I throw my head back in frustration. Did he not just hear me? "Ares, just try it," he says, his voice laced with parental authority.

I drop my arms and go to the driver's side. The Sheriff stepped back and gave me a thumbs up. "It's not gonna work," I mutter, turning the key. It comes to life as if it had never been messed up. "What the _fuck_?!" I exclaim, shaking the wheel. "What the hell, why didn't you work earlier?!"

Sheriff Stilinski drops the hood and comes around to my side. "It looks like it's working just fine."

"It almost killed me at the intersection!" I tell him, throwing my arm out toward the road, and he has to jump back to avoid getting smacked in the face. "It wouldn't turn on for shit!"

He sighs. "Head on home. I'll follow and make sure you don't get stranded again."

I throw up my hands. "That's it?"

"I'll have someone look at-"

"I can't afford a mechanic, I'm saving up my money for summer classes," I tell him, and he levels me with an _I wasn't done_ look.

"He owes me a favor. I'll ask him to look at it for you, alright?"

I can't help but grin at him, feeling better for the first time since my damn car started being stupid. "A favor? How scandalous, Sheriff-"

He slams the door in my face, and he's lucky I was in my seat all the way. "Straight home," he says through the window, and heads back to the cruiser.

"Rude old man," I mutter, but put the Turtle in drive, and it moves as it had before it went insane.

* * *

Melissa's home when the Sheriff and I get there, and Stiles is over, if the Jeep is anything to go off of. He's a horrible human, though, and had parked in the driveway next to Melissa's car, and thus I am banished to park in the road like a peasant.

"You needa tell your offspring to not take my spot," I tell Stilinski as we walk to the porch. He rolls his eyes.

"Kid, I would if I knew it would work."

I snort, knowing he was absolutely right, and threw open the front door. "Children!" I call out, dropping my keys on the hook by the door. The TV is on in the living room, and by the sounds of it, the boys are playing some video game. "I have returned!"

"No one cares!" Stiles shouts, and I let out a scandalized gasp.

"Stiles!" his father chastises as he walks into the living room after me, and Stiles looks up with wide eyes.

"Daddio!" he exclaims in surprise. "What're you doing here?" Sheriff Stilinski scowls, and Scott takes advantage of Stiles' distraction to kill his character. "Dude!"

"I need to talk to Melissa," Stilinski says. "She's home right?"

Scott pauses the game before Stiles can respawn and looks up at Sheriff Stilinski. "She's in the kitchen," he tells him. He glances between me and Stilinski, frowning. "Is everything okay?"

I wave a hand at him. "I'm being arrested. I'll see you in twenty years."

Scott looks like he wants to say something, but frankly I'm not in the mood, and follow the Sheriff out of the room into the kitchen, where Melissa is sitting at the table, playing some game on her phone while she keeps an eye on whatever she has on the stove. She looks up and blinks in surprise at the sight of the Sheriff.

"Sheriff," she greets, voice laced with confusion. "What's up?"

"My car was sabotaged," I tell her, pulling a chair out and dropping in it. "It died and I had to call him to come save me." I slouch as low as is decent and cross my arms. "Allison Argent's creepy aunt stopped to help."

Melissa stares at me for a second before looking up at the Sheriff. He sighs. "Her car wouldn't start, but it's working fine now. I'm going to have Landon from the impound lot come over and give it a look." He pauses, and I can tell by the look on his face that I am not going to like what he says next. "I don't think you should drive it around until he gives the okay, and when I called him, he said the soonest he can look at it is Sunday afternoon."

My jaw drops. "What, dude, no! What am I supposed to do over the weekend?"

Melissa arches a brow at me. "It's not like you go out during the weekend anyway."

"It's the principle of the matter!" I drop my head back and groan. "Turtle, why have you done me wrong like this?"

"If you need to get somewhere this weekend, you can call Stiles," Sheriff Stilinski offers, and I open an eye to look up at him, my interest piqued. "I don't want you driving the thing if it's being finicky, kid. Stiles can sacrifice some time to act as your chauffeur if you need to do anything."

I grin, straightening. "Really?" This is good. I can work with this. Make him make up for all the times he was a horrible little shit and gave me some serious stress.

Melissa chooses that moment to ruin my dreams. "Not tonight though," she says and both the sheriff and I look up at her confusion. She looks at us expectantly, and I try to recall what's going on tonight that I've been denied this wonderful gift. "The boys have a game!" she says, exasperated. "An away game against Hill Valley; they're leaving at five." She shakes her head.

"Ohh…"

Right. Because lacrosse is still something the boys do. The Sheriff sighs and pats my drooped shoulder. "After that, then," he remedies. It does very little to make me feel better.

"Wait, they're still having a game? Even after what happened Wednesday?" I frown at the thought. "That's kinda messed up."

"I heard they're going to donate some of the proceeds from the game to the janitor's family," Melissa says, shrugging. And, well, I guess that kinda makes it better? "They were going to cancel it, but the coach didn't want them behind in the race for State." She says it with such contempt, I love it.

The Sheriff leaves after extracting a promise from me that I would not be driving the Turtle other than moving it into the driveway when Stiles finally leaves, whenever that might be. I trudge back to the living room, and Stiles glares at me as I drop into the love seat.

"I'm _not_ driving you around this weekend," he snaps. I don't bother to answer him, instead laying down so that my legs hang over the end of the seat and my head is pillowed by the armrest. "What the hell is wrong with your car anyway?"

I throw my arm over my eyes and let my mind wander to what had happened. The Turtle had been completely fine this morning, and had only went to shit on the ride home. Only after Kate Argent had poked under the hood did it revive itself-

"Fucking Kate Argent sabotaged my car." I drop my arm and stare up at the ceiling. "That crazy bitch did something to my car." I look to Scott, and he frowns.

"Allison's aunt?"

"She knew who I was." I scrub at my face, at a loss of what to do. "She said Allison told her about me."

"Maybe she was just being helpful?" Stiles offers, though it sounds like he grasping at straws, and the uneasy look on Scott's face is hard to miss.

"She knows I hang out with Derek," I say. "That I brought Derek with me on Wednesday night."

A beat of silence.

"Didn't she shoot Derek?" Stiles asks hesitantly, and it's immediately followed by a cry of pain as Scott punches him. "I'm just saying!" He shakes his head. "Jesus, Ares, what if she thinks you're, like-" he drops his voice to just above a whisper- "a werewolf too?"

"That's stupid," Scott snaps. "Ares is, like, the farthest-"

"Kate knows what Derek is," Stiles interrupts. "She and Allison's dad probably know that it was the Alpha that trapped us in the school, and that Ares and Derek were both there when they really had no business being there." He gestures wildly, and the controller in his hand almost hits Scott in the face. "I'd be surprised if they _didn't_ think Ares was like Derek, dude."

I groan, covering my face with my hands. Stiles, the idiot that he is, goes on.

"So, not only do you now have the Argent's probably trying to kill you, the Alpha also has some super grudge against you." I look up at him sharply, and Scott punches him again. "OW! Dude, what?! You said-"

"I didn't want you to actually tell her!" he snaps back.

"Tell me what?" I demand. They look at each other, and I swear there's some sort of telepathy going on. "Tell me _what_?" I repeat, and Scott caves. He huffs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"The alpha wanted everyone dead because they're, like, my pack, or whatever." He shakes his head. "It wanted you dead because you're already my alpha. You're competition."

"The fuck I'm not," I exclaim, sitting halfway up. "I'm not your alpha, what the hell?!"

Stiles tilts his head to the side and pulls a face. "You kinda are."

"I'm kinda _not_."

He goes on as if I didn't speak. "You're always telling us what to do. You're the one that keeps Scott and Derek from killing each other, and you're like, the only one we listen to." He pauses. "Congratulations, Ares Delgado. You got yourself on a werewolf's shit list by being a mom-friend."

Are you _kidding me_.

I drop back on the couch and whimper, covering my face. Why. WHY. What have I done to deserve this? I'm a good person, for the most part. Like, sure, there was that thing with Elliot, but he had it coming. And the thing with Elisa was 100 percent justifiable.

I do not deserve this.

Scott, the closer of the two, leans over and pats my forehead in condolence.

* * *

 **So that was Ares meeting Kate. Less violent that she would have liked, but that's how things gotta be.**

 **I just want to say, the reviews you guys have left have been so freaking sweet and great and I just love y'all so much. Like, I read them and squeal and will immediately try to pump out as much writing as I can. Which is why I have like the next two chapters finished and I want nothing more than to share them with you, but I have to restrain myself until editing can happen.**

 **A shout out to the new followers/favorites, and of course, those who have stuck out through my erratic posting schedule. Bless y'all for sticking through this with me.**

 **This A/N is getting kinda long, but a couple more things to note. Remember that tumblr I mentioned a million years ago? Totally figured out how to work it now, and it's totally not empty anymore. I have more info on my profile, but know you can find it under thegalanerd, and it's got the same Batman Beyond avatar. The Pinterest is also still a thing, and I might have made a bunch of boards I had no business making and yet...**

 **I also made a spotify just for galanerd, and you can see that information on my profile. Just know it has _i swear im still ace_ from ch 17 and the playlist for Ares and Derek I write to. **

**Okay, because this is ridiculously long and I'm done self promoting - again, serious thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed/favorited. I appreciate it more than I can articulate. Have a good end to your weekend!**


	20. Chapter 20

The full moon is Monday night. It doesn't help my anxiety that Scott has a game tonight. A game I won't be able to attend because my car was sabotaged by a homicidal lady. Who, according to Stiles, thinks I'm a werewolf too.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay to play?" I ask Scott, watching as he gathers his gear from around the room. He gives an exasperated sigh as he stuffs what looks like shoulder pads into his gym bag.

"Ares." His voice is flat, and the look he gives me is scathing. I can't blame him; I've been bothering him with this ever since Melissa let out that there would be a game. Stiles had left some thirty minutes ago, gone to get his own gear before swinging back around to pick up Scott.

I raise my hands in defense. "I'm just saying, last time you went low-key feral, and the full moon was already over. Now you have your hulk out and the fact that it's almost the full moon."

"I have my anchor now, remember?" he says, and his voice takes on a patronizing quality, as if he's talking to a child instead of his perfectly reasonable older cousin. And this perfectly reasonable older cousin has reason to worry. He supposedly had his anchor Wednesday too, but that didn't stop him from trying to eat me, now did it.

But I'm not interested in starting a fight, so I keep that to myself, and instead arch a brow and cross my arms. "Oh, and is Allison gonna be there this time?"

"Yes, actually," he says smugly. "She and Lydia are riding together." he pauses, as if considering his next words. "With her aunt." I shudder and he goes on. "They're supposed to be going, at least. She says her dad is thinking about changing his mind. Look, if you're so worried, take Stiles' jeep and come to the game."

I crinkle my nose. The thought of being anywhere near Kate Argent makes my skin crawl. But more than that, the idea of having to drive Stiles' jeep feels like infidelity. "Um, ew, I'm not driving that thing. Cheat on my Turtle like that?"

"Your Turtle is the one that ended up unreliable first." He shakes his head. "Ares, seriously, you need to chill," he says, as if I didn't already know this. "You've been super stressed out since Wednesday, and my mom says it's gonna make you sick-"

"You told your mom?"

"She didn't need me to tell her, _tonta_ ," he snaps, and oh. Oh my god, he just. Spanish. Came out of his mouth. My heart is literally bursting with pride. He goes on, not noticing what he had just said. "You're not sleeping, and I get that you turn into freaking Cinderella and have to clean everything when you're stressed, but if I wake up to Selena one more time, I'm going to lose my mind!"

I gasp and draw back, absolutely scandalized. "Blasphemy! Selena didn't die for you to say such horrible things!"

"She didn't die for you to overplay her either!" Scott counters, ducking away when I grab a pillow to throw at him. "What more do you have to clean anyway? You've even vacuumed behind your dresser." I don't pout, but it's a close thing. Sighing, Scott crosses the room and drops in the bed next to me. "Everything's gonna be fine, I promise," he assures me. "And if it's not, you can…" he trails off, thinking. "You can taze me again."

"You idiot, I don't enjoy tazing you," I mutter, but can't help but smile at the offer. He grins, standing and getting back to work. "Man, I can't believe I'm under house arrest."

"It's not house arrest," he says, and I look at him flatly. What else would he call not being able to leave the house? He realizes his mistake and nods. "Okay, but it's not that bad," he amends. "Order a pizza or something."

I groan and throw myself back into the bed. Oh, to be a teenage boy, where all the worlds problems are resolved with pizza, Doritos, Mountain Dew, and video games. I consider, briefly, calling Sonya and Warren. Surely they would offer my comfort and distraction in my time of need. But I don't wanna be the clingy long distance friend that calls all the time to demand love and attention.

"You _are_ the clingy long distance friend that calls all the time to demand love and attention," Scott says, and I realize that I had been thinking aloud. "Accept it."

I reach over my head and grab Scott's pillow, throwing it at him. I don't see it hit, but I hear his squawk of indignation, and it brings me happiness in these dark times.

* * *

Dad calls. For the first time since Christmas, my dad calls me, and I almost miss it because I'm watching Gordon Ramsey videos on YouTube.

"Dad." I flounder for words, and settle with, "hey." I squeeze my eyes shut, mentally kicking myself for such a lame greeting. Don't talk to the man for two months and you start with "Hey"?

 _"Como estas, mija?"_

There's a monster werewolf trying to get my little cousin to kill me. I haven't slept properly in a few days. I am a Mess.

" _Bien_ ," I lie. " _Y usted?_ "

" _Bien_." There's a pause, awkward and long, like he isn't quite sure what to say, which makes me feel better about the call. If he doesn't know what to say, then he doesn't have Elisa there coaching him through it, and maybe the call was his own idea for once. "How's Melissa?"

"She's good," I tell him. "She's at work right now."

"Ah. And Scott?"

Oh, you know, just turned into a werewolf and is now being hunted by a crazy alpha and family of hunters. He's got a girlfriend though, even if she's part of the hunter family.

"He's good too. He's at a lacrosse game." I bite my thumb nail before going on. "Are you home?"

"No, not right now. Stopped in Kansas on my way to Nebraska." A rush of relief floods through me. Not home. Not near Elisa. Definitely hasn't heard about Wednesday night. The relief is short lived, however, as he goes on. "When are you going to start school?"

There it is. I stifle a sigh. "This summer, hopefully," I answer. "I'm working on getting my transcript, and once my taxes come back I'm gonna do my FAFSA, see if I can get financial aid." I pause. "I'm still working with the vet and the Sheriff, so I'm saving that money too."

Dad _tsks_ in disapproval, and my heart sinks a bit. "With the Sheriff?" I crinkle my nose, remembering his healthy dislike of law enforcement.

"It's a good job, and it's only two days a week," I tell him. "I do more at the animal clinic."

 _"Y qué haces a ya?"_

"I work the front desk mostly, but I'll help some with little things with the animal. Giving them food and water and walking them. It's fun-"

"You should already be in school, _mija_ , not working like that," he says, cutting me off, and I inhale sharply.

"It was too late to transfer last semester," I tell him, like I told him last time we talked. "And I wouldn't have gotten enough financial aid to cover if I started in the spring." I leave out how I'm likely not going to get much of anything to cover the summer classes I plan on taking, but hey, that's why I've been working since last July. "I'll finish my gen eds this summer and start the classes for my degree next semester."

I know what the next question is going to be before he even asks it. " _Y qué vas a estudiar_?"

I scratch at my eyebrow, wondering if it would just be easier to lie and say something like business. "I'm still thinking about it," I tell him, and it's mostly the truth. I had a plan before, but things went to hell and now I'm not so sure. Plus I haven't had much time to think about it, what with all the supernatural shenanigans going on.

Dad sighs. It's frustrated and loud and dramatic. "You'll figure it out." It isn't a reassurance. I nod, despite knowing he can't see it.

"I'll figure it out."

A beat of silence.

"I need to head out again, mija. Maybe we can come up and visit you," he suggests, and my heart jumps to my throat at the we. He doesn't mean it as a threat, but that's all I can hear. Melissa has made it clear that Elisa isn't welcome in her house, but still…

" _Si Dios quiere_ ," is all I can say to that.

If Dad catches the trembling in my voice, he doesn't say anything about it. " _Ten cuidado, mija_."

"Okay. You too."

" _Que Dios te bendiga_."

He hangs up, and I'm left feeling hollow.

God. I need to get out of this house.

* * *

 _I'm going for a run. You're my check in, I'll be back home in an hour or so  
_ (A)  
 _wtf now?! its already dark  
_ (HP)  
 _It's fine, don't worry  
_ (A)  
 _wat happened why r u running  
_ _is it bc of the alpha  
_ _is it bc of kate  
_ _is derek w u  
_ _ares pls answer_

 **Human Puppy (2 missed calls)  
** **Stiletto (1 missed call)**

 **Stiletto (3 new messages)  
** _Dude answer your phone Scott's freaking out  
_ _Ares.  
_ _ARES ANSWER YOUR PHONE_

 **Derek (1 new message)  
** _Scott called. I'm coming over._

 **Derek (1 missed call)**

* * *

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you._

It rolls in my mind, over and over and over, an offer of peace, a threat, a promise. No matter how far I go, it's still there. No matter how loud I have my music in my ears, it isn't loud enough to drown out the drone of Dad's offhanded threat.

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you. Maybe we cancomeupandvisityou. Maybewecancomeup-_

My toe catches a broken piece of sidewalk and the mantra comes to a screeching halt as I stumble forward. I try to catch myself, but my step is awkward, and my ankle rolls. I barely have time to bring up my hands to keep from landing on my face. I catch myself on a knee and while my hands break most of my fall, my left arm gives out from under me and my elbow slams into the sidewalk, leaving me sprawled on the ground like a shitty parody of a Taylor Swift song.

"Jesus _fuck_!" There isn't any immediate pain, but the falls jars the curse out of me all the same. "Fuck, are you fucking kidding me?" I manage to peel myself off the sidewalk and look around. Thankfully, no cars happened to be driving by, and there's no traffic lights, which means no cameras. Last thing I need is my fall to end up on some stupid facebook post. The sidewalk behind me is uneven, and I suspect the edge that jutted out behind me is to blame for my successful test of gravity.

Sitting up, I pull my legs out from under me, and my right knee aches in protest. I chant out a quiet mantra of "shitshitshit _OW_ shit-" as various parts of my body start making their pains known. The pavement skinned the bottom of my palms; they don't bleed, but it's a close thing, and the cold air stings against the exposed skin. I consider pulling my sleeve up to get a look at my elbow, throbbing now, but judging by the small but growing dark spot just below it, I don't have to think too hard to guess how it's gonna look.

" _Fuck_."

I look around again, noticing that I ate it in front of a park. No doubt it gets a lot of traffic when the weather is nice, but it's deserted now. It borders the Preserve, a simple chain link fence separating the park from the woods, and the yellow lamps that light it up give off a sickly aura. It isn't the ideal place to stop, not in the least, but there's a bench and a bench is a better place to recollect yourself than the sidewalk, I think.

I force myself up, and my leg shakes and my ankle almost buckles as pain erupts from it.

"Shhhit," I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut and quickly maneuvering my weight to my other leg. "Shitshitshit _fuck_ -" I inhale deeply and look to the closest bench. Not too far. Wouldn't be shit if I was fine.

I hobble over to the bench, and it takes much longer than it should have. The bench faces the park, which means it faces the Preserve. I stare at the trees, and wonder if the rustling is from the wind or if the universe decided I deserve nothing but pain and sent the Alpha to find me. Because apparently it wants me super dead now.

 _You're already my alpha. You're competition._

I'm not though. I'm not; I'm just a stupid older cousin in way over her head.

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you._

God, that was something too, wasn't it. Dad's threat. Melissa wouldn't just turn them out if they showed up without warning, would she? Manny is my brother, and he's your father, and he still loves you. Jesus, then why did he always leave me with her? Why did he always take her side? Why wouldn't he just let me go with Alicia or Aaron?

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you this summer. You're already my alpha. You're competition._

"Fuck," I choke out, wrapping my arms around my middle and doubling over, pressing my forehead to my knees. "Fuck, don't cry, don't cry-"

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you. You're already my alpha. You're competition. You'recompetitionYou'recompetitionYou're_

"Ares."

 _You'recompetitionYou'recompetitionYou'recompetition_

"Ares." I take a shuddering breath and look up. Derek Hale's blurry face stares back, expression concerned. "Hey."

I blink in confusion, straightening a bit. Derek Hale is kneeling in front of me, between me and the park, between me and the Preserve. He's still there when I blink again.

"What."

His expression lightens just a bit. "You alright?" He reaches out and catches one of my hands, turning it over in his own, exposing the skinned palm. "You're bleeding."

I sniffle, not pulling away but pulling out my other hand and showing off how that one is just as torn. My elbow protests the movement, but Derek takes that hand in his too, and his hands are warm. I focus on that. Use it to push away the _competitioncompetitioncompetition_ that runs on loop in my head.

"I fell." I stare at my knees, and notice for the first time that my pants tore at my right knee, and the stray fibers have stuck themselves to the blood and exposed skin of a scrap.

"You went running." He doesn't sound angry, like when I first told him about my runs at the diner, but there's a clear tone of disapproval in his voice. Annoyance, almost. And for a split second, it isn't Derek in front of me. It's Dad. It's Aaron and Alicia. It's Elisa. _You can't run from everything, Aracely._

A sob catches in my throat before I can stop it, and Derek's eyes - because it's Derek in front of me, not Dad, not Aaron or Alicia, not Elisa - go wide in alarm. "Ares, what's wrong-"

"I'm sorry," I manage to choke out, pulling my hands away and pressing them to my stomach. The fabric of my shirt rubs the raw skin. "I'm sorry, I just - I had to-"

 _RunRunRun runaway Aracely. All you do is run away, niña chiflada._

Derek moves; he must have, because now he's next to me, not in front, and he's pulling me to him. I let him, leaning into his warmth, and burying my face in his shirt. There's no stopping the tears now, and some part in the back of my mind chastises me for probably ruining his shirt, but it can't be helped.

He doesn't say anything as I hiccup apologies. They come out in a watery jumble, the apologies, and they likely don't make much sense, but they come out all the same. Apologies for running, for leaving the house, for making him come out and find me. Apologies for being the stupid mom-friend and pissing off the Alpha. Apologies for getting Kate Argent's attention - and he goes absolutely still at that one, so I apologize for ever mentioning it, and his arms just tighten around me - and getting in the way like he said I would way back when this all started and _God_ I should have just stayed in Texas, because Elisa said this would happen, didn't she? That I'd be in the way and fuck everything up here too.

"Ares, no," Derek says as my rambles taper off and I'm left trembling, clinging to his jacket. "You're not… you didn't do anything wrong."

I don't answer, because how can I explain how wrong he is? How can I articulate how I've done everything wrong? That maybe if I had just let him do things his way to begin with, or if I told Melissa and the Sheriff like I meant to, or if I just hadn't let Scott and Stiles go out that stupid night-

"You can't blame yourself like that," Derek says, cutting off my train of thought, and I realize that I had been saying it all aloud. "Christ, why would you think any of this is your fault?" he demands in disbelief.

I take a breath, but my voice still cracks when I answer. "Elisa always said-" My voice falters, and I let out a hiccup as more tears well up. Elisa said a lot of things, most refering to my absolute failure of an existence. Might as well just stay around the people who could handle it, she said. And I've had a fantastic time shoving her bullshit opinion down since being here in California, but what if it wasn't as bullshit as I thought. She might have had a point. "I should have just stayed. I shouldn't have come out here."

"For a run?" Derek asks.

"To California," I say with a sob. "To Beacon Hills."

Derek goes still, not unlike when I let slip that Kate Argent now knows I exist. "You're not supposed to say that," he says finally, and I pull away to look at him in confusion. "At the diner, you said I wasn't allowed to let you say that." My brows furrow as I think back to our visits…

"Oh." I blink, because, yes, he was right. Because Beacon Hills might be shitty with its _Supernatural_ ripoff bullshit, but I have him around now, don't I? Him and his awesome blue glowy eyes.

"Come on," he says after a minute, when my trembles are more so from the cold and not from crying. "Let's get you home." He pulls away, detangling my hands from his jacket and standing. I immediately miss his warmth. I don't miss it long, however, because he's shrugging off his jacket and dropping it over my shoulders.

"Der, no, I'm gross," I say, and it isn't a whine, but it's close. He catches my hands - careful of my torn palms - before I can pull it off, and I'm hit with deja vu of when he made me take it Wednesday night.

"Leave it," he says, leaving absolutely no room for argument in his voice. "You're shaking." I'm too tired to argue, and instead pull the jacket around me tighter, not bothering trying to put it on with my stiff elbow. "Are you okay to walk?" he asks, eyeing my knee and frowning.

"I'm fine," I say, wiping at my face, and he huffs in disbelief. Probably because he just witnessed my stupid breakdown, which I'm not entirely sure is completely out of my system just yet. "I am." To prove my point, I stand. He has the audacity to look impressed, only for that expression to fall away into alarm when pain flares in my right ankle, and my leg buckles. " _Shit_ ," I hiss as I stumble, fully expecting to repeat what happened earlier. But Derek is there, steadying me and supporting my weight. I inhale deeply, blinking away the tears of pain. "I rolled my ankle earlier," I say, glaring at the ground.

"You're worse than Bella Swan," he accuses, and I gasp, looking at him in betrayal. He takes advantage of my shocked state - because honestly, I have never been more offended in my life - and sweeps me off the ground into his arms.

"Derek Hale!" I exclaim in shock, flailing. He pulls his head away to avoid getting hit, but doesn't put me down.

"It's fine," he says, walking away from the bench and to his car. I open my mouth to protest, but all that comes out is a whining sound. "Ares, you're hurt. I'm not going to make you walk if you can't."

"I just rolled it, it's not like it's broken!"

He's quiet for a second, and I can see how he's planning his next words carefully. "If you mess it up any more," he starts, "it'll take longer to heal, and the longer it takes to heal, the longer you won't be able to run." The whining noise is louder and higher pitched, and I drop my head on his shoulder.

His car is parked along the street, in front of where I had fallen earlier, despite that there is a small parking lot a little ways further up the road. I pick my head up and frown at it, then up at Derek. He catches my expression, and arches a questioning brow.

"What?"

"How'd you know I wasn't… okay?"

He nods, as if expecting the question. "Scott and Stiles called," he says, and a distressed noise tears itself out of my throat, because that's something I'm going to have to deal with when they come home from the game. And then Melissa. God, Melissa will freak when she finds out it's Dad's call that sent me running. She'll call Aaron, and Aaron will call Dad, and Dad will tell Elisa-

"What's wrong?" Derek demands, setting me down by the passenger side carefully, keeping an arm around my waist to steady me. I shake my head, not wanting to answer. He frowns, looks like he wants to argue, but decides against it. Instead, he reaches past me, opening the door, and I slip in. He closes the door, and I sink into the seat, leaning back and watching as he moves around the front to the driver's side. He slides in, and neither of us speak as he turns the Camaro on. We wait for it to warm.

"I should have stayed home," I say quietly, keeping my gaze ahead, not daring to look at Derek.

"Probably," he answers, unhelpfully but in a manner that is completely and utterly him.

I drop my head back and close my eyes, not thinking as I speak. "I don't wanna go home." It comes out barely above a whisper, tone flat, empty. I don't expect Derek to answer - or if he does it to be something along the lines of "tough" or "sucks to suck." But maybe I'm projecting.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

I look up at him in surprise. The car is mostly dark, but I can see him clear enough from the lights of the dash and the dirty yellow street lamps streaming through the window. He glances over at me, and my breath catches in my throat, because Derek Hale. Derek Hale and his magical eye brows and tousled hair and eyes that don't know what color they want to be, but are sincere and bright even in the dark.

"Alright," he repeats, and puts the Camaro in drive.

* * *

(ﾉヮ)ﾉ:･ﾟ

Translations  
 _Como estas, mija_? - how are you, my daughter  
 _Bien, ... Y usted?_ \- good ... and you (formal)  
 _Y qué haces a ya?_ \- and what do you do there?  
 _Y qué vas a estudiar?_ \- and what are you going to study  
 _Si Dios quiere_ \- if God wants  
 _Ten cuidado, mija_ \- Be careful, daughter  
 _Que Dios te bendiga_. - may god bless you


	21. Chapter 21

Derek's room is very spartan.

I hesitate at the door, holding back as he walks in and drops his keys on the bare dresser against the wall. It's a small room, but enough for him, I guess. A single bed with a small night stand. A table and a couple chairs. A tv. Not any different than any of the motel rooms I've seen, lacking personality and flair.

"You coming in?" he asks, looking back at me, and I'm tempted to shake my head and run back home. Because it feels wrong, somehow, to intrude on his space, bare and empty as it is. Maybe I could actually make it without falling on my face this time. "Ares," he says, as if he can read my mind, and holds his hand out. "Come on."

So I step in, closing the door behind me, and don't move any further. My ankle doesn't feel like it's going to die anymore, but it's sore so I shift my weight off of it and lean back against the door.

"The room isn't going to come alive and eat you, you know," he says, and he's teasing, the asshole.

"Would you pull a Roland and jump in shooting if it did?" I ask quietly. His brows furrow in confusion. " _The Dark Tower_ books," I clarify. "There's a demon house that tries to eat a kid, and the Gunslinger crosses worlds to save him."

It was a beautiful moment in the series, the reunion of Jake and Roland, if you stand what Susannah had to go through for it to happen.

Derek seems to think it over. "I haven't read them," he admits, and I frown as he goes on. "Never been big on Stephen King."

"We can't be friends anymore."

It surprises a laugh out of him. "Really? This is where you draw the line?" he asks.

"A girl needs standards, Derek Hale." But I can't help the smile that breaks free, and he returns one of his own sunshine smiles. I glance around again, still not moving from my spot. "Is it okay here?" I ask, noting the hamper hidden in the corner and wonder absentmindedly where he goes to wash his clothes. His smile fades, and I internally kick myself for ruining his mood.

"It's fine," he says finally. "It's… it's not home," he goes on. "But it's fine."

"Hard for hunters to come gun blazing in a public place," I remind him. "Especially if you're a paying customer." He doesn't answer, but I like to think he sees the genius in my logic. Neither of us speaks or moves for a moment, not quite sure of what to do.

"Can I shower?" I ask suddenly, and he looks up in surprise. My skin feels gross, and I can feel my shirt sticking to my elbow.

He opens his mouth, closes it, and before I can worry that I asked the wrong thing, he gives a nod. "It's in there." He gestures to the door not far from the bed. I cross the room, only to pause by the door when he speaks up. "What-" He clears his throat. "Are you going to wear that again?" I frown, looking down at my clothes. My shirt is bloody at the elbow, and my pants are torn.

"I mean. I don't have any others." He scowls, and before I can protest, he's digging into his dresser. "Dude, no-"

"Shut up and take them," he orders, crossing the room and holds out a bundle out for me. "What's the point of showering if you're just going to get back into your bloody clothes?" And damn his logic. I look up at him.

"You sure?"

"It's fine," he assures, motioning for me to take them. I hesitate, but nod and take them from him. Afterall, it's not much different than when I would steal Warren's clothes.

Except that Derek isn't Warren. Derek is Derek. And Derek is. Derek is different.

Before I can think too much about it, I croak out a quiet "Thanks" and make my escape into the bathroom.

My knee and elbow start bleeding again when I peel my clothes off of them, and bruises have already started to form around the scrapes. But they aren't as bad as I thought they would be. A bit raw and sore, but not bad.

 _Soflamera_ , Elisa would say. _Vete correr otra vez._

I squeeze my eyes shut against the water and try to banish her words away. It works as well as one might imagine.

* * *

The room is empty when I step out of the bathroom, wearing clothes that aren't mine and holding those that are clutched to my chest. I don't move from the doorway as I process the distinct lack of Derek Hale in the room. I try to think of where he might have gone off to as I make my way to the bed, noting that the blankets are actually really nice for a motel before sitting, moving a pillow so I can lean back against the headboard.

Maybe he went for ice?

He isn't gone long enough for me to start worrying. Not a full minute after I've sat down, there's the jingle of keys at the door, and it swings open, revealing Derek, wrestling the key away from the door. He doesn't notice me until he's finally gets it free, and he stops when he sees me sitting on the bed. His expression goes blank, and I can almost hear his brain frying. I can't imagine why, though. But he shakes his head before it can get weird, and steps in, closing the door behind him.

"Hey."

"Hey." I pause, eying the bag in his hands. "You left?"

He nods, and doesn't seem to know where to go, and so stays by the door. "The gas station down the street." He pauses, seems to debate whether it's worth telling me what he has on his mind. "I think Scott called your aunt."

"Why?" I ask, and it gets caught in my throat.

"She called me?" he offers, watching my expression carefully. I swallow hard, because shit. She's gonna call Dad. Shitshitshitshit- "She just wanted to make sure you were okay." Derek says, setting the bag down and crossing the room. His face is blurry again, and _God_ , Ares can't you stop crying? "You're not-" His voice is hard, frustrated, and I can't tell if it's at me or not. He must notice this, because he stops, gathers himself. When he speaks again, his voice is soft. "Ares, you're not in trouble." He rests his hand on my arm. "Alright?"

I nod, wiping at my face, but not trusting myself to speak just yet. His eyes are searching, and he must find what he's looking for, because he steps back and grabs the bag from where he dropped it.

"Here," he says, sitting in front of me, and the bed dips under his weight. He holds the bag out to me, and I'm hit with a sense of deja vu. After he had gotten shot, and "Full Rage Ares" made an appearance. I take the bag and pull it into my lap, on top of my clothes, and furrow my brows as I pull out a plastic wrapped sandwich. "Your aunt said to make sure you eat something," he said in way of explanation when I hold it up in confusion.

I set it aside, because there's more goods in the bag. A bottle of water, a bottle of Tylenol, a purple package of-

"Chokis?" I look up at him, no doubt with the very same Steven Universe eyes Scott does with Allison, and I wonder if he can hear my heart explode. Just. In pieces with shards stabbing my lungs. Because I think I just fell in love. He doesn't bother to answer, but I can see red creeping up from his neck. "I'm marrying you," I blurt out before I can stop myself, and his brows shoot up in surprise.

"I thought we couldn't be friends anymore," he reminds me, and I frown. "We can get married after you've eaten something," he allows, taking the cookies from my hands and replacing them with the sandwich. I don't pout, but it's a close thing. "Your hands okay?" he asks, and I turn them over. They look… not that great, but they don't hurt as much.

"Fine," I assure him, and prove it by unwrapping the sandwich. It's simple, turkey and cheese, cold and a little dry. "Did… did Melissa say anything else?" I ask hesitantly, tearing a corner of the sandwich off. Crumbs fall into my lap, and I brush them away off the bed.

"Wanted to know where you were," he says, reaching over and grabbing the water, the bottle of medicine, and the abandoned bag in front of me. "If you were hurt."

"You told her I fell?"

"I told her you rolled your ankle," he says, not at all concerned with the betrayal in my voice. "She said to make sure it was okay." He opens the medicine bottle, and after tossing away the cotton shakes two pills into his hand. He holds them out to me, prompting me to take them by arching a brow. Setting the sandwich on my lap, I let him drop them into my hand and wait for him to open the water.

"My ankle is fine now," I tell him after taking the pills. I bring my leg up onto the bed, biting back a hiss of pain as I bend my knee, and pull up the pant leg. There isn't any swelling, and only a small bruise has appeared below the ball of my ankle. I poke at it, and Derek catches my hand and pulls it away.

"Stop that," he chides, and I crinkle my nose at him.

"It really is fine. I think I got super lucky." I pause as I munch on the sandwich. And wow, it's a lot better than I thought it would be. Kinda like the ones back at the student union back at school, where I'm still pretty sure they sprinkle cocaine on the bread.

"You think?"

I nod and wipe the crumbs off my face. "One time at a track meet, a guy landed wrong jumping hurdles." It was something from a horror movie, honestly. Derek makes a face, looking away. "I just needed off of it for a bit. I'm good now."

He looks at me, eyes searching. "Are you?" And it isn't my ankle he's talking about. I take a breath, leaning back against the headboard and consider the question.

I've been better, obviously, but it's not the worst I've been. You only have to ask Alicia about the week before Aaron finally let me come out here. And honestly, if Dad had called any other time and still said what he said,

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you_

I probably wouldn't have run. It was just at the wrong time, I think.

"I'm…" I close my eyes and shake my head. "I will be. I've just been…" I struggle for words, and when none of my own come out, I default to Scott's. "Stressed?" Derek arches a brow at the lack of surety in my voice.

"With what happened Wednesday." It isn't a question. A confirmation, maybe.

I nod. "And the alpha, and the Argents, the full moon Monday. And I was okay."

"Ares, you weren't okay-"

"I was!" I argue, and my voice rises. "I was," I repeat, quieter this time. "I mean, I was dealing." Dealing poorly, according to Scott and Melissa, but hey, they got a clean house out of it and a fridge full of food, so they really can't complain all that much.

"What happened then?"

 _Maybe we can come up and visit you_

I look up at him. His expression is patient, far more patient than I've ever seen him have with Scott. There's concern there, too, in his eyes. I look up at him, and remember that he doesn't really have anyone left. His _tio_ , maybe, but his _tio_ can't be there for him in the state that he's in. And for me to explain that it was a call from my _dad_ that sent me into a panic, that it was an offer to visit… It feels selfish, almost.

I drop my gaze and pick at the sandwich in my lap. "I… I don't really wanna talk about it," I tell him quietly, and I half expect him to argue. Instead he sighs - and not that judgmental sigh Dad does.

"Alright."

I look up at him. "Alright?"

He nods, and offers the beginning of a reassuring smile. "Alright. Finish your sandwich."

I crinkle my nose at him and take a bite out of the sandwich dramatically. As it turns out, I apparently lose the ability to properly eat food when emotionally compromised, and I almost end up choking on the bread. But then there's Derek holding out the water bottle, already opened. He looks exasperated, but amused.

"Impossible human," he says as I drink.

"I am the best human," I tell him once I can breathe again. "I mean. Most of the time," I correct. "When I'm not out ruining everyone's night." I sigh, no longer in the mood for the cocaine sprinkled sandwich. Derek frowns as I wrap it back up and set it aside on the night stand.

We sit in silence for a moment, before Derek breaks it, and he sounds oddly… cheerful?

"You wanna do something?"

I look up in confusion. "Do something?"

He nods. "Go somewhere."

Not entirely sure what to make of this, I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out what the seven hells brought this about. "Go where?"

* * *

"Holy _shit_ , dude."

I don't have to look at Derek to know he's just _beaming_. He sets me down carefully - because a fifteen minute hike had to happen for us to get here, and we pulled a _Twilight_ again because he didn't want my ankle to fuck up anymore - and I still manage to stumble. Not because of my ankle (maybe because of my ankle) but because I'm too busy looking up, looking around.

"Dude, holy _shit_."

"You mentioned," he says as he steadies me, and he's smiling like he just discovered Eldorado. Or just walked into a _panaderia_ and they just set out fresh conchas and _marranitos_.

We stand at the edge of a clearing somewhere deep in the Preserve. The moonlight fills the area, illuminating it as almost as bright as it would be during the day. It catches on the dew on the grass, on the very few flowers that managed to survive the cold. But the clearing isn't all grass. It gives way to a rocky shore after about six feet, and there's a river that cuts through the clearing. Flowing steadily, and it's maybe a little lower than it should be, if the line on the rocks is anything to go by.

It's… It's…

" _Holy shit_." I take a step forward, only to stop short and look up again. Bright, twinkling lights stare back down. "You can see the _stars_."

"Light pollution isn't as bad out here," he says, dropping the gym bag he had been carrying and opening it to reveal the blankets he had brought. They're the ones the motel provided, which are not the ones that had been on the bed. Because "I'm a werewolf, Ares. I'm not about to sleep in motel blankets." But apparently they're good enough for out here.

He brought three, and lays out two to protect us from the dew. He kicks off his shoes, setting them at the edge of the makeshift bedding, and holds a hand out to me. I take it, and let him steady me as I do the same. My ankle protests a bit, but I ignore it, and we sit in the center of the blanket, looking out to the river. Derek holds the third blanket out to me, despite the fact that I'm already wearing his jacket.

Still, the cold settles around us, and I wrap it around myself, before pausing to offer half of it to Derek. He shakes his head.

"I'm fine. Temperature doesn't bother me."

"You missed a perfectly good opportunity for a _Frozen_ pun and I am severely disappointed in you." He snorts, shaking his head. "Der, take the blanket." I hold out an arm, the blanket in my hand. He seems to think it over for a second before shifting a bit closer and taking the blanket from my hand and pulling it over his shoulder. I press against his side, looping my arm through his, and lean my head on his shoulder.

"You good?" he asks, his voice amused. I nod.

"This place is great," I say. "Kinda scary to get to, but great."

He huffs. "I knew what I was doing."

"Derek Hale, there is a reason the Preserve prohibits night hiking. Especially when there isn't a trail to follow." I look up at him and crinkle my nose at him. "But still. I'm glad you brought me out here."

He shrugs, trying to be nonchalant about it. "I haven't been here in years. I thought… it'd be nice to come back." He has a far away look in his eyes as he stares out to the river, and I realize that this place must be really personal. "Laura and I would come out here to hide from our little sister Cora."

I look up at him. "You have a little sister?" Derek as an older brother is something I want to see. Is he like Aaron? Man, that'd be something. But he doesn't answer. When he does, he looks away.

"She was home when the fire happened."

I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow hard. _Congratulations on ruining yet another thing in your life_. "Sorry," I say quietly. He doesn't answer, but catches my hand in his.

We sit in silence. Watch the river. It laps at the shore, slaps against the rocks. Nothing like the San Antonio River, and much cleaner than the Rio Grande. But it's sentimental all the same and I half expect to see a figure in white to emerge from the moonlight to lament the disappearance of her children.

"You're humming."

I blink in surprise and look up at Derek. "Sorry." I look out again, and can all but see her wading through the shadows, can all but hear her wails. "Place kinda gives a _Llorona_ vibe." As if to maximize the spook of my statement, a cold gust of wind crosses the clearing, and I pull my half of the blanket around me tighter. I close my eyes and know there's no stopping what's about to come out. "After my mom died, my dad didn't really know what to do with us. Aaron was fifteen, Alicia was ten, I was five. Dad got… kinda distant. He drives a rig, and he was gone a lot, so we practically lived with my _Tia_ Lettie. But then he remarried when I was thirteen, and by the time I was fifteen I wasn't allowed to go see her anymore."

I scratch at my nose as I go on. "But I remember she had a Chavela Vargas record, and she'd play it all the time. Her favorite song was _La LLorona_." I can't help but smile at the memory. _Tia_ in her little house, wrapped in her shawl and dancing around the kitchen dramatically as I sat at the table.

" _Ay de mí, llorona; llorona, llévame al río.  
_ _Ay de mí, llorona; llorona, llévame al río._ "

It comes out before I can stop it. Softly, and I think if Derek wasn't a werewolf he'd have trouble hearing it But I can feel him staring down at me, and my face goes warm with embarrassment. "My _Tia_ is better," I admit, because let's be real. I might have been in choir in high school - Warren's doing - but I was never more than a background alto.

Derek clears his throat. "You're… you're not too bad," he says and it surprises a laugh out of me.

"Should I try out for _The Voice_?"

The beginning of a smile plays at his lips. "I'd vote for you."

"You better vote for me. I make you food."

* * *

 **So. That was 21.**

 **A shout out to the new follows/favs, welcome to KH! I'm glad you're enjoying it! Reviews, again, have been super sweet and I really appreciate them, and am forever open to them - including criticisms. Let me know how you liked it, if there were any issues, so on and so forth ~**

 **ALSO. A _huge_ shout out to kkiyomizo and hufflepuff-true over on tumblr for lowkey being my betas for the future chapters** (can you believe I'm already working on 27?). **And let me tell you, they're just as horrible as me, and we intend to make you _suffer_.**

 **One more thing. The first 200~ words of 22 have been posted to thegalanerd, so if you're interested in a little sneak peek, it is there.**

 **Okie doke, that's all I got. Stay schway, my dudes, until next time!**

Translations:

 _Soflamera -_ melodramatic  
 _Vete_ _correr otra vez -_ Go running again  
 _panadaria -_ bakery  
Conchas - _pan dulce,_ sweet bread  
 _Marranitos -_ pig shaped ginger bread. A personal favorite  
 _Llorona_ \- Weeping Woman  
 _Ay de mí, llorona; llorona, llévame al río. -_ Woe is me/poor me/oh my (etc) Llorona, Llorona, take me to the river.


	22. Chapter 22

"-res. Ares, wake up for a bit."

You know when you're in the middle of a doze and when you wake you're not entirely sure what the seven hells is going on?

"Oh _shit._ " I inhale sharply, my eyes snapping open as I lurch forward. Something digs into my collar bone, and slowly my surroundings fall into place. We're in the Camaro, and I blink owlishly out the windshield to see the that we're parking in front of Derek's room. The seatbelt had locked, which is probably for the best because I might have brained myself on the dash.

We only stayed at the river - henceforth known as _el Rio Escondido_ \- for about an hour. And that was because I was all but falling asleep on Derek, and he hadn't been too keen on letting me pass out in the middle of the preserve. Which is great of him, because _I'm_ not too keen on being sore in the morning.

"Hey, you okay?" I turn to see Derek looking at me. He's got a hand on my shoulder. I blink at him before nodding. The corners of his mouth quirk up - the beginning of a smile. "Alright, come on."

I follow his lead, clumsily unbuckling my seatbelt, and pulling at the door handle. It pops open, and good thing there isn't a car parked on my side, because the door flies open and bounces on its hinges.

"Can you not mess up my car?" Derek asks as he comes around the front and stops in front of my door. I make a face, sticking my tongue out at him, and he has to look away, struggling to school his expression. He waits as I try to get out, and in the end he has to give me a hand, because in case you might not remember, my motor skills decline significantly when I'm sleepy. He lets me hold onto his arm as we make our way to door, and doesn't say anything when I lean against his back as he unlocks the door.

"You know who's great?" I ask as he searches for the right key to the door. I go on before he has a chance to answer. "Lana Del Rey. I love her. I'm gonna marry her."

"I thought you were going to marry me."

"I can marry two people, Derek Hale. I can marry whoever-ever I wan'," I say, the last half of my sentence mangled by a yawn.

"I don't think you can actually marry two people at the same time, Ares," he says, and he sounds like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "That might be illegal." He finally gets the door open, and I scowl at the sudden brightness when he reaches in and turns on the light.

"I guess I'll just marry you then," I tell him, because that's a more realistic goal, I think, and follow him in. "I'll marry and serenade you with Lana Del Rey songs, since you like them so much." I snort, remembering how red he had gotten when I sang "Gods and Monsters." "It'll be nicer songs though," I assure him, stumbling to the bed and plopping down.

"Does she have nicer songs?" he asks, setting the keys down on the dresser.

"She has the _nicest_ songs, Derek Hale." I throw myself back, flinging my arms out, and stare at the ceiling. " _Let's get out of this town, baby we're on fire / Everyone around here wants to be going down, down_."

"That doesn't sound pleasant," he mutters.

I ignore him. " _I got so scared, I thought no one could save me / You came along scooped me up like a baby._ " My eyes close as I hum the chorus to myself. "It's the best song."

"You can serenade me with the best song in the morning," he says, but his voice sounds off. I'm too tired to pinpoint what exactly it is, and file it away for later examination. He pats my knee, the one that wasn't bloodied by my fall earlier. "Shoes."

I grumble Spanish obscenities and kick them off.

"Jacket." I make a whining noise in my throat and turn to my side, wrapping my arms around myself and burying my face into the bed. "Ares, come on. It's not nearly as comfortable to sleep in as you might think."

"'S warm though."

"Blanket's better," he assures, and I let him sit me back up and help get the jacket off. "If this is you tired, I don't want to see you drunk," he mutters to himself as he stands me up and leans me against him.

"I'm a fun drunk," I say through a yawn, swaying as he pulls the covers back. " _Pelo suelto y todo eso_."

"I'm sure," he says dryly, gesturing to the bed. I pat his arm before crawling in with about the same grace as drunk toddler. "You good?" he asks as I pull the covers up and shove my head under the pillow.

"The best."

* * *

I'm not sure what it is that wakes me. A feeling. The lack of something, maybe. I sit up, blinking as I look around. The room is dark, only a small sliver of light peeking through the crack in the window curtains. The small clock on the night stand reads one-fifteen, and we had returned to the room sometime around midnight. I frown, noting that I'm the only one in the bed, and look around.

"Derek?" There isn't an immediate answer, and a spike of panic stabs into my chest. "Derek Hale." I throw the blankets back and crawl to the end of the bed in time to see Derek shoot up from where he's laying on the floor and shift in a defensive stance in front of the door. When some unseen enemy doesn't immediately come tearing it down, he looks up at me. It's too dark to make out his expression, but his head is tilted a bit to the side, and the part of me that wants to make dog jokes is reminded of a confused puppy.

"What's wrong?"

I stare at him in disbelief, then at the pallet of blankets and the pillow he has set up between the bed and the door.

"Are you sleeping on the _floor_?" I demand. He sits back on his butt, looks down at his pallet, then up at me.

"Yeah."

" _Why?_ " My eyes start to adjust to the dark better, and I can almost make out his confusion. He doesn't answer quick enough, and a horrible thought occurs to me. "Did I kick you out of your bed?!"

"Wha - Ares, no." He jumps up when I try to get out of the bed, because I am _not_ gonna be the chick that steals someone's bed. When they have to probably pay by the night, no less. Unfortunately the pants I'm wearing are too loose and get caught in the comforter, meaning my legs get caught with them, and before I can register what's happening, I'm tilting forward off the bed. But instead of getting a face full of gross carpet and maybe earning a broken nose out of it, I get a face full of chest. Bare chest. Because Derek Hale doesn't wear a shirt to sleep apparently.

" _Christ_ , Ares, what're you doing?" Derek demands, straightening me. I look up at him, and his eyes seem to glow in the dark, even without flashing the anime blue.

"I'm not gonna steal your bed, dude, what the shit?"

He scowls. "You didn't steal it, I gave it to you."

"But you can't- You can't just sleep on the floor! It's hard and you'll hurt your back."

He rolls his head a dramatic eyeroll. "My back is fine. Go to sleep." He steps back toward his makeshift bed, and I throw myself back as the adrenaline of waking alone seeps away, leaving me with effects of my run earlier and several nights of shit sleep.

"Lay down with me," I say into the darkness, and the sound of Derek trying to get comfortable on the floor cuts off.

"Why?" There's something defensive in his voice, almost accusing, and I can't help but wince at the tone.

Because it's not fair for you to sleep on the floor. Because there's more than enough room for the both of us. Because I haven't sleep a full night since before Wednesday. Because there's still some irrational part in my head that thinks my phone is going to go off and it's going to be Elisa demanding to know where I am and why aren't I home already. Because - god, the list could go on forever if I let it.

"Please?"

A heavy silence fills the room, _y Dios mio,_ I made it weird, didn't I-

Derek sighs loudly. "Alright." He says it like it's a chore, asshole werewolf.

I sit up in surprise, and the movement is too fast, because I'm hit with a wave of lightheadedness, but it doesn't keep me from seeing Derek picking himself up. He leaves the blankets on the floor, and comes around to the side I haven't completely taken over.

"I mean. You don't have to if you don't want to," I say quickly, not wanting him think I'm the clingy friend Scott claims I am.

He waves his hand at me. "Shove over, Delgado," he says, and I'm not quite sure how to take the last name only. But it's a good an answer as I'm likely to get, so I make room for him. "You already offered."

"No takesies-backsies?"

He huffs. "Sure." He moves to lay down, but I stick an arm out.

"You gotta say it or you're not allowed."

"You're a child."

"You think I'm cute," I remind him. He shakes his head, muttering incoherently as he catches my hand and lifts my arm out of the way.

"No takesies-backsies." He settles in, turning on his side facing me, and I can't help but crinkle my nose at him. "You're not going to kick me, are you?"

"I might steal the blankets," I warn him, shifting to face him, pulling the blankets tighter around me as I do. He's closer than I thought. "Not as bad as Sonya though," I offer in consolation. "She starfishes. Warren demon talks in his sleep." I hide my face in the blanket to cover a yawn. "It's the wor-orse."

Derek hums. It's soft and sleepy and it makes something in my chest flutter. Not my heart though. Because that would be ridiculous. But he must notice something, because he opens an eye at me.

"What?" His voice is quiet, almost hoarse.

And shit. It was my heart.

I'm going to have to have a conversation with Sonya. I'm going to need to have a conversation with her as soon as possible. Because I don't think wanting to marry this asshole is a joke anymore. Because his smile makes my heart want to do Selena proud and _bidi bidi bam bam_. Because looking at his eyes makes my heart want to rip out _Alien_ style. Because the fact that he went out of his way to take care of me tonight pretty much guarantees that I am Fucked™.

And I can't have him looking like an adorable asshole and doing things to my heart without going unpunished, which is the only explanation I will give for my next actions.

"My hands cold?" I ask, and he arches a brow in confusion.

"Wha-" He gasps, his eyes going wide as I rest my hands just below his jaw. I let out a laugh, and it sounds suspiciously like a giggle. He goes still for a split second before relaxing into the touch.

"Yes," he says finally. "You're hands are cold." He doesn't move them, though. I move my hands up, patting his cheeks, and he lets out a huff of laughter. "What are you doing?"

"You're prickly," I tell him, because he is and it pokes at my palms, but not enough to hurt. He catches my hands and pulls them down in front of him. He holds them gently, and I can't bring myself to pull away.

"You need to go to sleep," he says, and yes, he's right. I do need to go to sleep. "You're being uncharacteristically touchy."

"You're being uncharacteristically nice," I counter before ducking my face into the blanket to yawn again. He smiles, and I don't think he means to."What?"

His smile falls away, and for a fraction of a second his eyes seem to go wide with… alarm? But it's gone before I can really tell, and it's not like I could tell anyway, sleep deprived that I am. He shakes his head and rolls on his back, letting my hands go.

"Go to sleep."

Just like that, his uncharacteristically nice is replaced with his characteristically aloof nature from before that I thought was finally fading away. And it makes my chest tighten. I pull my hands back, consider saying something, anything, because it feels _weird_ now. Off. But I don't want to risk making it worse, and so shift back away from him a bit and roll away, facing away from him.

* * *

You know when you have a _really_ trippy dream about a less murderous version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory, complete with Gene Wilder and a bunch of tiny Stiles and Scotts that make up the Oompa Loompas and it just… _weirds_ you awake?

No? Just me? Okay then.

I grumble incoherently, trying to scrape the vision of Stiles and Scott singing that creepy ass song, and shift closer to the source of warmth next to me. I pull the blanket around me tighter, cocooning myself as best as I can as I press my face into the wall of warm next to me.

The wall shifts a bit, and that. That's not right. Walls don't move. And they aren't warm, and there's the fact that my bed isn't against a wall-

My eyes snap open and this is not a wall. Or even a pillow. I stiffen, slowly looking up to see Derek blinking himself awake. And wow. He's adorable, with his tousled hair and sleepy eyes and-

Oh. Oh _Diosito mio_.

This is Derek Hale's chest I shoving my face in.

"Oh my _God_!"

I throw myself up, or try to, at least. I would have succeeded, but the thing about blanket cocoons is that they're very constricting, and I tangle myself into the sheets and end up throwing myself _back_. Over the edge of the bed and into the not very comfortable corner of the nightstand, which has that lamp that will break and get glass everywhere.

Or that's how it would have happened, if Derek didn't reach out and and grab a fistful of blanket in one hand and my arm with his other.

"Jesus, Ares!" he scowls, pulling me back onto the bed and away from the very uncomfortable corner of the nightstand and maybe even death, who knows with my luck. I stare at him in shock, blinking what little sleep I have left in my eyes and trying to calm my pounding heart.

This isn't my room. This is… Derek's motel? What the shi _iit, right_ , last night. Dad's call, my failure of a run, _El Rio Escondido_.

"Oh my fuck," I say quietly, collapsing back into the bed.

"You alright?"

I don't answer, but instead grab the covers and pull them over my head and curl into a ball. He starts to say something, only to be cut off by three sharp raps at the door.

"Tell housekeeping to go away," I mutter, trying to calm my pounding heart.

"That's not housekeeping," Derek say, and his voice is tight, as if with… fear? I pull the blanket back and stare at him through my hair, which came free from its hair tie and is now absolutely everywhere. Derek's face has drained of color, and he looks at the door like it's going to be thrown open and the room shot up like we're in a bad - read: freaking fantastic and worth binging - _novela_.

"Who is it?" I ask, sitting up as Derek jumps out of the bed, throwing up the covers he had been under, as if to cover up the fact we had been sharing.

"I'm gonna get arrested again," he mutters under his breath, and I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to hear that as he crosses the room to get to the door as the knocks repeat, loud and impatient.

He throws the lock and pulls the door open, revealing a very unamused Sheriff Stilinski. And I think the fact that he's out of uniform makes this even worse, honestly.

The Sheriff looks at Derek, pulling his sunglasses off and narrowing his eyes at his lack of shirt before stepping in without invitation and surveying the room. I keep absolutely still, because maybe he's like a t-rex, and needs movement to notice things. He eyes the pallet on the floor, which _Gracias a Dios_ Derek left out last night or else he might be super murdered, before looking up at me. Me, the teenaged girl he lowkey took in along with Melissa, who is currently sitting in the bed of a man he recently arrested on murder charges.

"Hey, Sheriff."

"Ares. You okay, kiddo?"

I nod, and decide that it's probably best for everyone that I get out of the bed. "I'm fine. Nothing quite like a slumber party with your bro to…" I trail off at the _please stop speaking_ look the Sheriff gives me, and I nearly stumble in my haste to get out of the bed. "Um. Why are you here?" I ask, searching around the pillow for my hair tie. "Not that I don't appreciate your presence," I go on, pulling my hair back into a low bun.

"Stiles called," he says flatly.

"Of course he did."

"Melissa asked me to come get you," he goes on, and that doesn't sound quite right. She would have totally come and got me herself if I needed her to.

"She asked you or you told her?" He has got that dad glare on point. I raise my hands in defense before gesturing to the bathroom. "I'm just gonna… my face…" Derek shoots me a look of betrayal as I dip behind the door, slamming it shut behind me and resting my back against it. I take a second to take a deep breath and mentally kick myself for leaving Derek to the wolves - ha - like that. I press my ear against the door, and there is _silence_ on the other side.

I am the _worst_ friend.

I'm quick to go through a mockery of my morning routine - splashing water on my face and rinsing my mouth out with water to try and get rid of that gross taste out of my mouth.

"Okay, I'm good, we can go now!" I say, throwing open the door and really meaning _please for the love of god do not murder Derek_. Derek, who has not moved from his position by the door, not even to put a shirt on. The sheriff, on the other hand, has made himself right at home, looking as though he wants nothing more than to bring in a full forensic team to do a sweep of the place.

The sheriff looks up at me, and frowns when he notices my clothes.

"Those aren't yours."

"Probably because mine are covered in blood and Derek is a decent human that let me borrow some of his," I counter, frustration seeping into my voice. I already had one bad talk with a dad in the past 24 hours, I'm not interested in another so soon. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it, shaking his head. He turns to Derek as I grab my bag of ruined clothes and my shoes from by the bed.

"You know the diner off highway five?" he asks, and isn't that the one we go to for lunch? Derek must nod, because the Sheriff goes on. "Put some clothes on, son. You're joining us for breakfast."

"He's what?" My head snaps up as I finish pulling on my shoes, not bothering to untie and retie them. Derek looks just as shocked as I feel.

"We're going to breakfast," Sheriff Stilinski says brightly, and if I've learned anything from Stiles, it's that he's a lot like his dad, and when the Stilinskis breaks out the cheerful attitude, someone is in for it. "We'll meet you there," he goes on, gesturing for me to follow him, and if only he could hear the shrill shrieking that is going on in my head. I spare Derek a panicked look, because holy shit, this is the worst thing, and he seems resigned to his fate.

"I'm just going to ask one thing," Sheriff Stilinski says once we're in the cruiser. I keep my eyes down, on my hands, and note the small red dots of blood that didn't break through the skin. "You really okay, kid?"

And wow, this isn't a question about why the hell I'm with Derek? I look up at him.

"I am. Now." I crinkle my nose and look out the windshield. "I think Wednesday finally caught up with me, and my dad called, and I dunno. I just needed out of the house."

"Your _dad_?" And I can't blame his alarmed tone, because Scott loves talking shit on my dad, which annoys the ever living shit outta me, because it's not him that's horrible. It's the woman he married, and he's just never freaking home long enough to see that.

"It wasn't bad or anything," I assure him. "He just mentioned his wife and it kinda…" I bring my hands them and give a helpless shake. I don't mention the promise to visit, because he'll tell Melissa, and Melissa will mention it to Scott, and god. Scott will go straight to Aaron with that.

The sheriff sighs. "Alright. One more question. Did Derek really sleep on the floor?"

"Oh my _gawd_ ," I through my head back. "Yes! Can we go now? Please?"

And it's not a complete lie. Derek did sleep on the floor. Just not all night. Sheriff Stilinski must never know any different.

* * *

 **~Bed sharing~**

 **I swear we'll be back to something vaguely resembling the show's plot soon. Until then, many thanks for the kind reviews and the new follows/favs. Have a safe and fun weekend! Do your homework! Don't procrastinate like I do!**

Translations  
 _el Rio Escondido_ \- the hidden river  
 _Pelo suelto y todo eso_ \- Hair down and all that. Pelo suelto is a reference to the Gloria Trevi song, which is p much about living life your way.


	23. Chapter 23

I worry about Angie. I don't think she ever takes time off.

The Sheriff leads the way through the diner, which is fuller than I've ever seen it when Derek and I come. There are actually families here this morning, not just the truckers. He nods in greeting to Angie, and she raises her pot of coffee in acknowledgement. She eyes my clothes, and tilts her head to the side questioningly. I duck my head and she sighs in annoyance.

Sheriff Stilinski finds a booth in the middle of the diner and gestures for me to sit, and I can't help but feel relieved that he slides into the booth across from me.

"You're not gonna be mean to him, are you?" I demand. "Because I'll tell Stiles you're eating bad stuff."

He shakes his head. "I'm not going to be mean." I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. "I can't invite someone to breakfast without ulterior motives?"

"No." I point a finger at him. "You're a Stilinski, and Stilinskis don't do _anything_ without ulterior motives." He just arches a brow at me, and, okay, I might be being a little paranoid right now. "Just… Don't be weird." He looks absolutely offended and holy shit. Stiles gets it from him. "He's like, my only friend outside of the boys and station. I like having him around. I want to keep him around, if you don't mind."

Sheriff Stilinski sighs. "We're just here for breakfast," he assures. He glances past me, and raises a hand, and I look back to see Derek move away from the door. Looking absolutely out of place in his leather jacket and sullen disposition among the rest of the cheerful patrons.

He crosses the room, and I slide in the seat more so he can sit.

"Hey," I greet, tugging at his jacket sleeve. "Looking like you came here straight from a _Vogue_ shoot again." His eye roll is quick to disappear, however, when I gasp. "Or maybe the cover shoot of a certain young adult paranormal nov-"

"I hate you."

"Obviously not, or you wouldn't have come," I counter, and he doesn't argue. A throat clears, and we look across the table to see the Sheriff's questioning gaze. We're saved from having to explain our future literary plans by Angie, who appears seemingly out of nowhere with a note pad in her hand.

"Coffee, Sheriff?"

He nods. "Yes, please."

She turns to us, and I grab the menu, flipping it for the drinks. "Um…" I give it a quick scan. "Strawberry milk, please." It earns me a couple looks, but she writes it down all the same.

"Coffee, please," Derek says, and I look up at him in surprise as Angie makes her escape. "What?"

"I dunno, I just don't see you drinking coffee." And I have so many werewolf related questions I need to know the answers to. Immediately. Such as: how the hell does caffeine affect werewolves? What would happen if I fed Scott a Redbull?

"So, Derek, what are your plans while in Beacon Hills?" Sheriff Stilinski asks. I shoot him a look, because wow. This is where Stiles gets his lack of tact. "I'm actually a bit surprised you haven't gone back to New York yet."

Derek's gaze drops a bit. "I wasn't planning on going back without Laura," he says, and you can see the shame in the Sheriff's face. Derek clears his throat. "Our lease in New York is almost up anyway."

The Sheriff frowns. "What about your stuff?"

"The landlord is a friend of ours. I've asked him to put it in storage until I get a chance to go back for it."

Stilinski hums, not sure how to take that information. Angie chooses this time to return with two mugs, my milk, and a fresh pot of coffee.

"Know your orders?" she asks, and Derek is the first to answer. Changes had to be made to the Sheriff's order, because he is absolutely not allowed to have bacon that doesn't come from a bird.

"Did you go to school up in New York?" Sheriff Stilinski asks, and even I have to look up at him curiously.

"Columbia," he says, with a tint of pride, and Sheriff Stilinski hums, impressed. "I graduated last semester, actually. Business with a minor in English Literature."

I gasp in excitement. "English nerd!" I exclaim, slapping his arm, and good thing he doesn't have his drink in his hand. "I was an English nerd too!"

"But you're going back to school," the Sheriff says quickly, and I crinkle my nose, remembering my conversation with my dad last night.

"Yeah, I guess." I slouch in the seat. "Student loans, yay!" I mutter. There's a tense moment of silence before Derek rummages through his jacket pocket and pulls out a purple package.

"You left these," he says, handing over the cookies, and I straighten, grinning.

"My chokis!" I could kiss him. "I think we should have a fall wedding. A halloween wedding!"

"A _what_ now?" The Sheriff looks absolutely panicked.

"I'm gonna marry Derek," I say flippantly, looking around to make sure Angie isn't around before opening the package. I just feel like she wouldn't approve. "He brought me cookies last night." I take a bite of one and can feel my soul detach from my body and ascend into a high plane of being.

"If that's how you arrange marriages, you're going to have to marry Paulson and Silverman too."

"They get me vending machine cookies. These are god tier cookies that I've only found in _one_ gas station here-" I stop short, glancing up at Derek. He doesn't look at me, instead finding his coffee very interesting. The gas station with the chokis is _not_ the one by his motel.

My heart. Oh god, my heart.

But because I can't articulate just how much I appreciate Derek Hale in this moment, I pull a second cookie out and hold it out to him. "Take it. Don't argue."

He blinks in surprise and slowly takes it. "Okay?"

"And put these back before Angie comes back," I tell him, all but shoving the pack back in his pocket. "I don't have pockets."

Derek rolls his eyes, but pulls my hand out of his jacket and rearranges the cookies in a way that won't get them broken by the time we leave.

The sheriff continues his interrogation - plans of finding a job, plans on finding somewhere to live, has Ares told you about her brother? Seems like a great guy - and Derek answers with only a little attitude. He even asks his own questions about Beacon Hills - is Mrs. Kernshaw still at the library, when did lacrosse become such a big thing, she has mentioned her brother, he _does_ seem like a great guy.

And you know? It isn't a horrible experience. Derek even let me steal some of his hash browns. Sheriff Stilinski no longer has the Dad™ voice, and actually seems to enjoy the conversation they're having.

Things are going much better than I had anticipated.

The bell by the door chimes, and a split second later Derek goes absolutely still next to me. I look up at him, mouth full of waffle, and frown at how his expression has gone absolutely blank. I tap his arm, and he gave a small shake of his head. The sheriff doesn't notice; he's too busy complaining about his turkey bacon.

"Look who's here!"

 _Ay, Diosito_ , why must you hurt me so?

"Hey, guys!" I look up around my shoulder to see Kate Argent making her way across the diner toward our booth, a bright smile on her face. It doesn't reach her eyes. Chris Argent gives a tight smile as he follows her, and Allison waves. I swallow the food in my mouth, nearly choking as I do so, and wave back, because it's not her fault her family is insane.

Kate sits herself at the table next to our booth, and I can't help but notice the way the Sheriff narrows his eyes _ever_ so slightly. It's something he does when he's annoyed, and hard to miss if you don't know what you're looking for. Chris, realizing that his sister won't be moving, gestures for Allison to sit, and shoots her a look when she tries to sit in the seat opposite to Kate, and closer to our booth. She huffs in annoyance and moves over.

"Hey, Derek," she says, and there's a toxicity to her voice, hidden behind a sweet facade, that makes my skin crawl. Derek tenses, and looks up at her, and for a split second I worry he's actually going to shift and rip out her throat. I wouldn't blame him; she tried to kill him more than once already. Her eyes give him a greedy once over, and a flare of anger heats my face. Derek has his hands balled into fists on his lap as he tears his eyes away from her and instead seems to focus on his plate.

They can't do anything here, I remind myself. They can't do anything here with so many people around, with Sheriff Stilinski right there. Chris Argent wouldn't do anything with Allison here.

These reassurances don't work all that well.

"What brings you out?" the Sheriff asks, and bless him for taking one for the team. Kate turns her attention to him.

"Well," she sighs. "Allison has been coped up since Wednesday, so I _finally_ convinced Chris to let me take her out." She shoots her brother a look. "He insisted on coming."

Chris gives an unapologetic smile, and Allison glares at him.

"We were supposed to go to the game last night, but my parents wouldn't let me. They won't even let me get the _mail_ ," she says over the table to me, and I wince for her.

"That's when you pull a Rapunzel and bounce out yourself," I tell her, and am met with twin glares from the Sheriff and Chris, though the Sheriff's is in general disapproval, whereas Chris looks like he wants to shove a knife in my throat. "Oh, come on," I say, rolling my eyes. "Last couple weeks aside, Beacon Hills isn't anywhere near as bad as Laredo, and I used to ditch out in the middle of the night over there…" If looks could kill, I would be decomposing at this point. I don't hide behind Derek, but it's a close thing. In my defense, he shifts in a way that makes hiding very easy.

"Dad, don't be mean," Allison chides, looking turning red with embarrassment and seeming to miss the way Derek is actively murdering him with his gaze alone. He doesn't respond, but his glare has moved from murderous to scrutinizing. Which is worse, I think.

"Ares, honey, how's your car working?" Kate asks, and Allison frowns, looking between the two of us.

"Something's wrong with your car?"

Derek glances at me, and I can't remember if I mentioned this in the fuck up that was last night. "It was being weird Friday afternoon and left me stranded on the lot by Gore and Jefferson," I tell her. I glance up at Kate, who's smiling eagerly, watching as Derek as I go on. "Your aunt stopped to check on me."

"Oh." Allison looks at her aunt quizzically. Like this is the first time she's heard anything about it.

The Sheriff starts to explain that he's having someone look at the Turtle later, and I look up at Derek to see his jaw twitching. His hands are balled in fists, and his knuckles are white, and shit. I can feel him shake next to me, and hear the very _very_ faint growl coming from his throat.

Not sure what else to do, I bump my shoulder into him, and he jumps a bit. Barely noticeable, but there nonetheless. He glances down at me, and I crinkle my nose at him as I lean on him, and if I take advantage of his state to swipe a piece of bacon from his plate, I can't be blamed. Because it seems to relax him enough to huff in annoyance. Little by little he loosens, until his hands unclench and his darkened expression falls away.

Kate sits back in her chair, and it isn't hard to see the disappointment in her eyes when it looks so much like Elisa when she failed to get a rise out of me. But like Elisa, she immediately looks for another point of attack.

"If you don't mind me asking," she starts, "but how does a group like this get together for breakfast?"

The Sheriff frowns, and Chris looks at her in warning.

"Kate-"

"I'm just curious," she goes on, and has to stop there, because Angie, Angel of the Lord that she is, appears seemingly out of nowhere to bestow upon us the ticket. She sets it on the table, and both Derek and the Sheriff reach for it at the same time.

"I got it," Sheriff Stilinski says, somehow managing to grab it before Derek. "I invited you, remember?"

"I can pay you back," Derek says quietly, and the sheriff waves him off.

"Least I can do." He leaves it at that, not wanting to go on in front of the Argents, but what's left unsaid is clear. "You two good to go?" Derek nods almost too eagerly and starts out of the booth even as the Sheriff says his goodbyes. I throw back what's left of my drink before sliding out after Derek, saluting Allison as I go. She almost doesn't see it; she's looking at her aunt like she's searching for some explanation for her actions and words to Derek.

Chris nods in acknowledgement to Derek, a sort of _I won't kill you now because there are witnesses, but I better not catch you alone_ nod. Derek doesn't return it.

"Bye, Derek," Kate sings, and when that doesn't get a reaction, "It was good seeing you again, Ares, sweetie." and Derek must hear something I don't - aside from the general bad touch vibes -, because he whirls back around, looking absolutely murderous. She tilts her head to the side, smiling curiously, and waves her fingers at him.

 _Bruja_.

"Why don't you two head on outside," the Sheriff suggests, giving Kate a _look_. Derek tears his glare away from her and nods, catching my arm and pulling me in front of him, which, okay? He prods my forward, and keeps his hand against the small of my back as we pass the dining families that had literally no idea how close they came to seeing a murder.

"You okay?" I ask as soon as we're outside and he's dropped his hand. We stop between the cruiser and the camaro, parked together a bit farther off from the door. I turn back to face him, and his expression is dark and closed off, and his eyes are flickering. Like, literally flickering between bright anime blue and hazel, and this might be an understatement, but that's not good.

"Der-" I reach for him, and he takes a step back, bumping back into the camaro. I pull my hand back as he takes a breath, and exhales a growl, glaring past me at the edge of the lot. His jaw jumps, and I wonder if he's holding off a shift. Not entirely sure what to do but knowing he needs to be grounded or _bad shit_ is gonna go down, I move to his side and lean next to him, looping my arm through his. He stiffens, but I ignore it, and after a second he lets me pull his hand into my own.

"They wouldn't do anything here," I tell him, keeping my voice low and glancing at the windows of the diner. They're tinted so it's harder to look in than out, but I can make out where the Argents are sitting. No details, but judging by the prickly feeling on the back of my neck it wouldn't surprise me if they were staring. I go on. "Chris wouldn't with Allison here, and even if Kate is crazy enough to try anything, Sheriff Stilinski won't let them do anything to you." I look up at him and bump my shoulder into him. "I think you were winning him over in there."

It doesn't have the effect I want it to have; he scowls when he meets my gaze. "I'm not - it's not -" he growls in frustration, running his free hand through his hair. "It isn't me she's threatening," he says finally, and it takes a second for the words to sink in.

"Oh." I blink and look away, wondering why I'm not feeling absolutely panicked. Or maybe I am but it's just my constant state of being now so I just don't notice anymore. Because Kate Argent is probably gonna kill me at some point. Some point soon, if she had it her way.

"I won't let her," Derek says, voice hard, full of conviction. I look up at him, and he's leaning in close, and once again I'm hit with deja vu from Wednesday.

I can't help the smile, because Jesus Christ, Derek Hale. "I know." I crinkle my nose at him. "But you don't gotta worry about me. There's a _chola_ hidden in here somewhere," I assure him, and he huffs, leaning back. "I got the hoops and flannel in my trunk back home, just waiting for their time to shine."

"You're the worst human," he mutters.

"And yet, you adore me."

"And yet," he says under his breathe, almost too low for me to hear. I don't think he actually planned on me to hear. Before I can think anything of it, Sheriff Stilinski walks out of the dinner, looking annoyed in a way that says someone got very close to getting arrested. If only he had been on duty.

"Alright, Sheriff?" I ask, pulling away from Derek as he approaches. He nods, waving the question off. Which I don't really appreciate, but whatever.

"I don't care for that woman," Stilinski mutters as he comes to a stop next to us. "They give you much trouble?" he asks Derek. He doesn't get an answer, which is answer enough. Stilinski shakes his head. "Have Ares call me if they do," he says, and holds his hand out. Derek blinks at it in surprise. He takes it, but carefully, as if he's worried the Sheriff is about to jerk it away. Or shoot him in the face with a wolfsbane bullet.

The sheriff nods to the cruiser. "When you're ready, kid," he says to me, and I nod as he makes his way around. I turn back to Derek.

"You gonna be okay?" I ask.

"I should be asking you that."

"Oh, you know us latinas. Having a mental breakdown one minute, ready to take over the world the next. We're complex and wonderful women, latinas. To be feared, really."

He shakes his head in disbelief, sticking his hands in his pockets. He frowns, and pulls out the pack of cookies with an arched brow. He holds them out for me, and being a child, pulls them back when I grab for them.

"Rude!" He gives a small smile and drops it in my hand. I stare down at them for a second before looking up at him. "You didn't really go to the gas station by the motel, did you?"

He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, but doesn't say anything.

"You're a loser, Derek Hale," I tell him, and smile up at him when he dares look back down at me. "I guess I'll just wash these for you?" I gesture to the clothes I'm wearing.

"You don't hav-"

"I'll wash them." I rock back on my heels, and his lips quirk at the corners. "So. I'll text?"

"Memes and shitposts?"

"All day, everyday," I say with a grin, and he doesn't hide his smile this time. His stupid sunshine smile. And it's all that stupid smile's fault for what happens next. I rock forward, catching the front of his jacket and use it to pull myself up - because Derek Hale is taller than me by a freaking head - and kiss his cheek.

It's nothing more than a peck, a traditional greeting or farewell back home. Something I've done plenty of times to friends and family, to Warren and Sonya literally any time I see them. But like I said earlier, Derek isn't like Sonya or Warren. Derek is different.

And Derek has gone absolutely still. I pull back, and his face is bright red, his eyes wide. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Thanks," I say, feeling my own face heat up. "For yesterday." I step back. "For taking care of me," I clarify, and hold up the cookies.

He nods, and slowly seems to get his senses back. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "You're welcome." And he looks past me to the cruiser, and his expression goes blank. "You should probably…" he gestures. "He might still arrest me."

I look back, and Sheriff Stilinski is openly staring - no, _glaring_. "I'll bail you out," I tell him, but does as he suggests. He waits until I'm in the car to start to get in his own, and I wave through the window at him as I put on the seat belt and settle back.

But there's a disturbance in the force, and I turn to face the Sheriff.

"What the hell was that?"

"That's what Mexicans do to say goodbye," I tell him nonchalantly, and I'm actually pretty impressed that I can pull it off. He stares at me, obviously not buying it. Which, what isn't there to buy? "Take a culture appreciation class, it's a thing." He doesn't say anything. "What? You want me to kiss you too? I can."

He shakes his head, looking done in a way only a dad can. "I'm not dealing with this right now," he mutters, turning on the car. I barely suppress my grin, and look down at the purple package in my hands.


	24. Chapter 24

***Maui Voice* "You're welcome~"**

* * *

Scott's waiting outside when the Sheriff pulls up into the driveway. He's sitting on the steps, and Stiles is sitting with him, probably to distract him. He doesn't look very distracted, because he shoots up as soon as the cruiser comes to a complete stop.

"Oh man, this is gonna be fun," I mutter under my breath, unbuckling my seatbelt. Sheriff Stilinski offers a sympathetic pat on my shoulder as I reach down to grab my bag of clothes.

"They just worry."

"They need to stop." I throw open the door and force myself out. Scott rushes forward, and I mentally prepare myself for what he's going to unleash. Why did you go running? Why did you stay with Derek? Why didn't you come home? Why why why.

"I know what you're going to say," I start, raising a placating hand as I meet him halfway up the driveway. "And I'm gonna need you to not-"

And suddenly I find myself with an armful of teenage werewolf. I blink in surprise, stumbling back a bit. The only reason I don't find myself on my ass is because Scott's got his arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace.

"Um." I pull my head back a bit to try and get a look at him, but he's got his chin on my shoulder, and there's no way I can do that unless I pull an _Exorcist_.

"You're not allowed to do that again," Scott says, not letting go. His voice sounds tight, like he's holding back tears. "You didn't answer, and Mom didn't know where you were, and I couldn't go-" He drops his head into my shoulder. A feeling of warmth, mixed with guilt, settles in my chest.

"Scott-" My voice catches in the lump in my throat, and I pull my arms out from between us and return the hug. "I'm sorry I scared you, _mijo_."

He inhales quickly, and it sounds suspiciously like a sniffle. "Just. Don't do it again, you stupid older cousin." He pulls away, and narrows his eyes at my clothes. "What the hell, why are you wearing Derek's clothes?"

I drop my head back and groan. Just like that, it's as if nothing ever happened.

* * *

"I have a problem," I tell Sonya and Warren. They're on the screen of my laptop, and I sit cross legged on my bed in front of them. They exchange looks, then look at me pointedly. Which I don't appreciate but can understand.

"It must be bad if you got Hubie out," Sonya says, meaning the old and faded but still perfect stuffed penguin I have cradled in my lap. A gift from my mother when I had a small obsession _The Pebble and the Penguin_ as a little kid, Hubie had been banished to my trunk sometime during junior high school, if only for his own safety from Elisa. He only rarely was allowed out, and the habit kept even as I came to California.

"Tell us of your problem," Warren says sagely, peaking his hands together and leaning forward toward the screen. The two of them are in what looks like one of their dorms, sitting at the desk. They're pressed close together to both get in camera.

"Does it have anything to do with the fact you've been basically ghost since Wednesday?" Sonya demands, and I whine, dropping my head into Hubie's overstuffed belly. "You never did answer me about what happened, and I am _not_ happy with you, Ares Maria."

And bless Sonya, because even when she's using my full name to get mad at me, she doesn't go for Aracely. I pick my head up a bit and glance at my door. Stiles has long since gone home, and Scott was still downstairs last, watching some show he's obsessed with on MTV. When I had gotten back - and changed out of Derek's clothes, because Scott was throwing some serious shade - the boys declared that a Disney marathon was in order.

We all cried when Baymax didn't make it through the portal with Hiro.

"I've had a pretty shitty week and don't need judgement right now," I tell her. "Just listen." She scowls, but mimes zipping her mouth shut. And so I tell them what happened. The censored version at least. Going to pick up Scott with Derek, being in the same building as a serial killer. Warren stares at me in disbelief, and Sonya looks like she wants nothing more than to Blue-Scadoodle into the screen and do someone some serious harm.

"I swear to god, you better be kidding or I'm leaving Texas tonight to kick you ass," she threatens. I don't answer, and her jaw drops. "Are you serious?!

"Jesus, Ares, why didn't you tell us?" Warren exclaims.

"I didn't want to worry you," I say, as if it justifies my actions. "I didn't even see anything wrong - that was Scott - and I had Derek with me anyway."

"Your serial killer?" Sonya asks in disbelief. "What is with you and serial killers?"

"He isn't a serial killer!" And they blink in surprise at the aggravation in my voice. "Like, yeah he's moody, and he likes his dark clothes, and before he got a room he looked like he never slept, but he's not-" I stop short at the looks they're giving me. Before they can jump to conclusions I'm not ready to reveal yet, I go on. "And then my car went to shit Friday."

"Oh, no! The Turtle!" Warren exclaims, because he's the more fickle-minded of the two and easier to distract. "What happened?"

"Fuck if I know." Which is a lie. I know exactly what happened. Kate Argent, demon spawn that she is, sabotaged it. But that can't be revealed and so it stays hidden. "It just started being weird. I had to call Sheriff Stilinski to help me. He's gonna have the guy from the impound lot look at it, but I can't drive it around until tomorrow."

"You have this look on your face that says that's not everything that's happened," Sonya says critically. This is where I would have told her about the Alpha singling me out and the problem with the Argents. But I can't, and instead inhale and drop my head on Hubie. "My dad called last night. And he mentioned Elisa, and I kinda just-" I shake my hands at them.

"Oh, Ares…" Warren says, his hands to his mouth. Sonya's brows furrow in rage. She's probably the only person that hates Elisa more than I do. Mainly because there was a time where she almost succeeded in ruining our friendship with her impossible rules.

"It wasn't even a big thing. It would have been fine, but I think Wednesday caught up with me and." I shrug helplessly. Sonya shakes her head.

"Are you okay? Have you told your siblings?"

"No!" I point a finger at them. "And this doesn't leave this call. I already got super lucky that Scott and Melissa hasn't told them anything."

She raises her hands in defense. "I don't understand why you always defend your dad," she mutters in disgust, and I shoot her a look. "So what happened? You okay?"

"I went running. And I fell." I lift my elbow and show off my elbow, scraped and bruised as it is. Melissa had poked and prodded at my hurts when she saw them, but deemed them fine, and it made me feel even more like an idiot. "And I'm pretty sure I had a panic attack. Not sure, never had one before." Sonya throws her head back and tugs at her hair.

"Are you _serious_?"

I sit back and let her have her minor breakdown. It's not like I can blame her; she just learned her best friend almost got killed by a serial killer, is having car issues, and maybe had a panic attack and she wasn't anywhere around to bring moral support cookies. Which. Speaking of cookies. My gaze moves past the laptop to my trunk, where purple, half empty wrapper sits, and I remember Derek's stupid sleepy face last night and how he had gotten embarrassed when I realised just where he got the cookies.

"You have a look on your face that says something else happened that makes this all either super okay or super worse," Warren says warily, and Sonya's head snaps up with _Exorcist_ speed.

"Worse," I say, then pause. "Better?" I shove my face into Hubie and try very hard not to think about how warm Derek's hands are and how deep his eyes are. It doesn't work very well. "I have a problem." I say into the plushy, and it comes out muffled.

"Well hurry up and tell it then," Sonya snaps. I turn my head so I can see them, but still halfway hide in Hubie's belly.

"Derek Hale has the prettiest eyes and I want to punch him in the _face_."

They're silent for a second as the words sink in. Warren is the one that realises what's up first, and his eyes go wide and bright as a manic grin spreads across his face. He slaps Sonya's arm, hard if the sound is anything to go by, and rocks in his chair.

" _You like a boy!_ " he screams shrilly, and only just avoiding Sonya's returning punch. Because you don't punch Sonya Langston. It just is not done.

" _Shhh_!" I hiss, my hand shooting out to mute my laptop. I look to the door, and when Scott doesn't immediately come barging into my room, I turn the volume back on.

"-ew you and your serial killer were a thing!" Sonya says, and when I look back to them, she's leaning forward toward the screen and typing like she has a paper due in the morning and only just remembered. "Let's see just how pretty this _Derek Hale's_ eyes are," she says, and I realize I have made a grave mistake.

"Don't google him!"

"Facebooking him, darling," Warren says, resting his chin on Sonya's shoulder to watch her work. "Let's see, Derek Herell, Derek Hayes, Derek Hall, Jesus, does this guy not have a face-"

"DEREK HALE!" Sonya exclaims, slamming her finger on a her keyboard. "Brooklyn, New York?"

"He used to live in New York," I say before I can stop myself, and wow. Way to be a horrible friend, because these idiots I call my best friends are going to ruin his life now.

"Did he also go to Columbia?"

"Maybe?"

"This is him," she says, clicking on something. Warren blinks, leans forward, and then leans back out again.

"Ares. Aracely. Baby doll." He looks directly at the camera. "You need to lock this shit down _immediately_."

" _This_ is your serial killer?" Sonya demands incredulously. "Ares. He's fucking. He's."

I drop my head on Hubie. "He smiles _y los angelitos cantan_."

"He smiles?" Warren frowns in disbelief. "Literally brooding in all these pictures. Must not like pictures? And they're all taken by someone named Laura?"

"His sister," I say, and leave it at that.

"You can't see his eyes in any of these, but girl. That jawline." He pauses. "There's a lot of pictures with his sister. They're always wearing sunglasses - what, are they allergic to the sun?" He gasps. "Ares, you fell into your very own _Twilight_."

And it takes every ounce of willpower in my body to keep my mouth shut that no, Derek Hale is not a vampire, he's a werewolf, and he once sent me a novel length text clearing that up when I sent him a screenshot of Cat-Vlad from _What We Do in the Shadows_. It was absolutely scathing, and I have it saved forever.

"You only _just_ realized you like this guy? Ares, I know you don't like the whole sex thing and all, but Jesus. He's gorgeous." Sonya clicks around. "Doesn't have a lot of statuses. Mostly tagged pictures and posts."

"Oh, he's older than us, that's good," Warren says brightly. "Look, do the math, he's 23 right now." He points to the screen. "His birthday is November seventh, Ares, take note so you can get him something."

Sonya's eyes scan the screen. "Oh, my godchildren are going to be the most beautiful creatures," she says with a sigh, and I bury my face in the pillow and bite back a scream. She notices, because her next question is: "Wait, does he like you back?" I shrug helplessly. I have never been a good judge on these things. Comes with the lack of sexual attraction, I think. Shit, Sonya had to point out that Elliot was trying to get my attention, and she never forgave herself after.

"Surely he does," Warren says. "If he went to the murder school with you." I peek up at him and whine. It's not like I can tell them he only came because the Alpha was there too.

"He was just being nice," I say instead. "It's what bros do."

Sonya narrows her eyes at me, because even half a country away she knows how to pick up bullshit. "Ares Delgado, I will tell you if this guy likes you back. What all have you done together?"

Chased around a supernatural creature that wants to kill us all, avoid hunters that also want to kill us all, and try to teach my little cousin to _not_ kill us all.

"Sometimes we get lunch at a diner?"

"Who pays?"

"We go back and forth."

She scowls, and it's not a good sign for me. "What else?"

"We go running."

Warren's expression goes thoughtful. "I mean. If he's willing to hang out with you when you're sweaty and gross…" And he would know something about that, because both he and Sonya were in track with me. I groan. If anything, seeing me sweaty and gross is a big turn off.

"This is stupid," I declare. "This is fucking dumb."

"Ares-"

"No. I don't. I don't even wanna know," I decide, and it's the farthest from the truth I can get. Because I do wanna know because knowing is the best way to put it all behind me. But it's a safe bet to assume he _doesn't_ , and that works just as well, right? "I don't wanna talk about this anymore. It's giving me anxiety."

"But your serial killer," Warren whines.

"Is just my friend, and is gonna stay just my friend, and I don't wanna talk about this anymore," I repeat. Sonya looks like she wants to argue - probably because she wants to live vicariously through me. "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

"Ares Delgado, don't you hang up-"

"Bye, love you."

And the look of rage in her eyes is not something I want to end this call on, but I can't handle her questions anymore. I don't want to have to think about this anymore. I close my laptop to avoid them trying to call back and throw myself back into my pillows, Hubie clutched in my arms.

Of all the assholes to like, it has to be Derek freaking Hale. Who is an absolute jerk to Scott and Stiles most of the time. Who wanted to murder Deaton the other night. Who goes around terrorizing teenagers and laughs about it later.

Who bought me sweets for not letting him die. Who smiles with his eyes on the rare occasions that he does smile. Who let me steal his bed, and went out of his way to get me cookies.

A high whine tears itself out of my throat and I roll on stomach, burying my face in the covers.

I would rather feed myself to the alpha than have to deal with this.

* * *

 _I just got two friend requests on fb from a Sonya and a Warren_

(D)

I blink at the message, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I'm not sure when I passed out, only that I did, and either Scott or Melissa have been in here in the time being, because the comfy throw I always steal from the living room has been thrown (ha!) over me and my laptop magically transported from my bed to my trunk.

The message has a timestamp of two hours ago. It is currently eleven-forty-nine at night.

"Oh dear God."

I'm pressing call before I can think my actions through. It rings once, twice, three times, fo-

"Ares, it's almost midnight, what the hell?" Derek grumbles in way of greeting, and I would be offended if I wasn't so alarmed at the moment.

"You need to block Sonya and Warren right now," I tell him. "Like, immediately."

"That's why you're calling me?"

"Derek Hale, this is a matter of life or death-"

"I already added them."

Well. Fuck.

"You fucker, I thought we were friends." It surprises a laugh out of him. "Why would you do that? My mystery," I lament, when in reality I'm panicking over the fact that Warren can't keep his mouth shut for shit and the last thing I need is for things to get _weird_.

"What about _my_ mystery? You're the one that told them about me."

I make a face at Hubie, because I can't make it at Derek. "I'm sorry for sharing the fact I finally have a friend that isn't a teenage boy or an officer of the law." He hums, and it warms my soul. "I didn't mean to tell them your last name. It kinda just slipped." I pause. "Have… have they messaged you yet?"

"They're about as annoying as you," is his answer.

"Rude!" I gasp, scandalized. "We are perfect. Golden Trio level fantastic."

"They accused me of replacing them," he goes on as if I didn't say anything.

I _tsk_. "I'm not replacing. I'm supplementing."

"You need to tell them that. They're of the opinion that I'm not worth your friendship."

"You probably aren't, but I have decided to bestow it upon you all the same," I say lightly, and I can practically hear the eyeroll. "I give you, like, three days before you have to block them. You should just save yourself the trouble and do it now."

"I've lasted this long hanging out with you," he says, and damn, he has a point.

"But you didn't really have a choice. You had to hang out with me. Because of Scott." Which isn't a lie. The only reason we went to the diner the first time is because he needed me to get Scott to listen to him. And the second time because Scott and Stiles sent him to jail and the alpha was hanging around.

He's quiet for a second. "You can't really think I just stuck around because of Scott." And he sounds absolutely flabbergasted, and I hate that I can't see his expression right now.

"Kinda?" I shrug even if he can't see. "It's cool though. The first time Sonya spoke to me it was to tell me I had a hot brother and it hurt my soul on a level you cannot understand because no sister wants to hear that."

He makes a noise of annoyance. "Idiot human," he mutters, and his voice is distant, like he moved the phone away. "You have a pretty shitty self esteem, don't you?"

I frown, because, wow, rude. How dare he point out my flaws. "It comes with the years of manipulation and emotional abuse," I say in annoyance, and my mouth snaps shut once I realize what I just said. Because that absolutely was not something I meant to share. "Um." He doesn't say anything on the other end. "Fuck. Just. Pretend you didn't hear that," I say quickly, panic in my voice. "Please."

And the problem with phone calls is that you can't see the person's face.

"Your friends just sent me the same shitpost you did earlier," he says finally. His voice sounds off, clipped and short, like he's holding off anger. "The one with Shrek _._ "

I could cry. I almost do. "Where do you think I get my supply?" I ask, and have to work very hard not to choke. I clear my throat. "You're gonna hate us before long."

He snorts. "Them, maybe." He pauses. "What'd your aunt say about your ankle?"

I huff, throwing an arm over my eyes. "It's fine. I'm just a _soflamera_."

"Ares…"

"Though she did say we probably should have iced it." I shrug. "It's whatever. I should be running Monday if you wanna come."

"You should _not_ be running Monday."

"Who's the certified nurse, Derek Hale? Not you," I remind him. "Melissa says it's fine. I'm running."

He makes an annoyed noise in his throat. "We're running. You're stupidly stubborn, you know that?"

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

"You do that."

I shouldn't be so pleased with myself, and yet.

* * *

 **It only took roughly 100k words and 24 chapters, but guess who isn't completely oblivious about her feelings anymore? Ares! Now to actually get them together...**

 **Anywho! Hope you enjoy this double update, because I'm going back to hoarding chapters for a couple weeks. Next chapter will see the beginning of the episode of Scott's second full moon (drunk teenagers, yay!) so we have that to look forward to!**

 **Thanks to those who reviewed, always love those. Ellixwolf, and anyone else interested in a Derek POV chapter: I'm currently considering doing a series of what-ifs, oneshots, whathaveyou related to this story on the tumbr, and maybe on here under a different story, and if I do, you will definitely get your Derek POV. I'm just needing life to chill a bit and learn how to better manage time (again, don't procrastinate, y'all. it's satan) If I don't end up doing the oneshots, I have a future chapter I'm considering putting in Derek's POV, but I just gotta get there first before I can decide.**

 **That was kind of a useless answer but just know I see what you want and am working on it.**

 **As always, welcome to the new favs/followers. Those who binge this whole thing-whoa. Those who have been here forever, get ready guys, it won't be all fluff and fun for much longer.**

 **Okay, this has gone on long enough. Catcha on the flipside, my dudes~**


	25. Chapter 25

"Do werewolves get drunk?" Stiles asks from where he lounges in the loveseat, and I just know I'm going to have a bad night. He cranes his head back and looks at Scott backwards. I make a point not to look at him, instead keeping my eyes on the TV, where Moana and Maui are in the middle of a _let's-learn-to-sail!_ montage. Scott, however, tilts his head to the side in thought.

"I mean. I don't know why not?" He looks at Stiles. "Science experiment?"

Stiles flails as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. "Science experiment!" he agrees enthusiastically. I chose this time to remind them of my presence.

"And just what do you think you're going to be doing?" I demand, putting the movie on pause as they start to stand. Stiles looks at me incredulously.

"Did you not just hear us? Science experiment, Ares; we're gonna see if Scott can get drunk."

I inhale. Exhale. Breathe, Ares, breathe. "You realize you're going back to school tomorrow, don't you?"

"It'll be _fine_ ," Scott says, drawing out that last word in a very Stiles fashion. It's alarming.

"Come on, don't you want to see what happens when you feed a werewolf Honey Jack?" Stiles asks, pulling on his shoes. "Look, think of it as some stress relief," he goes on. "You're all sorts of _tense_ -" And I don't like how he says that word- "since Wednesday. If Friday night was anything to go off of."

I look at him and blink. Slowly. He leans back as I answer. "Surely it has nothing to do with being chased down by a mind controlled teenage werewolf," I tell him, and Scott winces. I ignore it, because these are things that need to be said. "The same teenaged werewolf you want to get drunk. The night before the full moon. When he's already being moody as hell."

Stiles goes still for a full second - new record! - before looking up at Scott, who rolls his head back in an exaggerated eyeroll. "I mean. When she puts it that way…"

"I don't see what the problem is," Scott mutters, crossing his arms and al but pouting. "I have my anchor now."

"Yeah, you apparently had it Wednesday too, but look how that turned out," I snap, and it comes out much harsher than I mean it to. Scott scowls, and Stiles is obviously uncomfortable as a a tension settles in the room.

"What, so now that I'm a werewolf I'm not allowed to have fun anymore?" he demands, and I roll my head back in frustration.

" _Sabes que no estoy hablando de eso_."

"Really? Because that's what it feels like."

"Come on, Ares, you can come with," Stiles offers, no doubt trying to defuse the situation. "You need to let loose."

I groan and consider my options. These idiots are probably going to go do whatever the hell they want whether I approve or not. And there's no telling _qué pendajadas_ they'll be getting into without adult supervision.

"Look," Stiles says in a stage whisper, drawing me out of my contemplation. "Look, you can see her will breaking."

I snatch my water bottle from the coffee table and throw it at him. He curls into a ball, laughing, and it bounces off his side. "Fine!" I snap at them and Scott throws his hands up in victory, the spoiled brat. "I'll freaking babysit your stupid werewolf ass." I point my finger at his nose and he struggles to keep a straight face. "But I'm taking my taser, and if you so much as _growl_ -"

"Okay, okay," he says, raising his hands in a placating manner. Stiles jumps up and grins down at me as he bounces on his heels impatiently.

"So. You're driving right?"

I fall back into the sofa and cover my face with my hands, whining. A hand pats my head, Scott most likely. "You're my favorite," he sings, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me up and into a tight hug. I roll my eyes and let my hands fall. Melissa, who is thankfully at work and won't be back until late, is going to crucify me if she finds out about this. Why do I let myself be dragged into these things.

"You're a freaking _brat_." He releases me and I look up at them. "Where are you getting the alcohol?" They exchange looks before looking back down at me.

* * *

Before I came to California, I gave Alicia thirty dollars and she gave me her ID. It's been tucked away in my wallet ever since. "I know you don't drink as much, but you never know," she had said. Yeah, you never know when our stupid little cousin and his idiot best friend want to experiment with lycanthropy and alcohol. I'm gonna lose my freaking job. Both of my jobs. The Sheriff and Deaton are gonna be so disappointed, I can already see his face.

"Okay, one bottle of Honey Jack," Stiles says, reaching out from the back of the Turtle and shoving a handful of bills into my face. He drops them in my lap and I crinkle my nose in disgust as I grab them and straighten them out.

"That's it?" I ask. "Because I don't want to have to stop somewhere else because you forgot something." The somewhere else being the liquor store Sheriff Stilinski visits. We made a point to come to the one Stiles is pretty sure his dad doesn't buy from, because the last thing we need is to accidentally run into him.

Stiles thinks my question over before looking to Scott, who doesn't spare so much as a glance up from his phone. "Maybe something stronger, you know, to really get past those werewolf powers-"

"One bottle of Honey Jack," I say loudly, opening the door and getting out. "I'll be right back."

The bell above the door rings as I walk in, and the man behind the counter gives a rehearsed greeting. The Jack isn't at all hard to locate among the many bottles lining the shelves. When I return to the front to check out, the small arrangement of water packs catches my eye. They're smaller packs, only twelve count, and it takes me all of two seconds before I grab one off the top. The last thing I need is Stiles and Scott hung over as hell tomorrow for school.

Because apparently I'm the type of person that gets high schoolers drunk.

I set my goods in on the counter and do my best to look five years older than my actual nineteen years when the clerk asks for ID. He gives it a glance, arching a brow at the state.

"Texas?"

"Visiting family," I answer, and wonder if maybe I should have contoured my nose before coming. Alicia and I look enough alike that I never had issues using her card before, but the paranoia never really goes away.

The clerk shrugs, accepting it, and I'm back on my way.

"Why did you get water?" Stiles asks, twisting in his seat to watch me stash the pack away in the back.

"Because I don't know your tolerance level and I don't want you getting sick," I answer, handing him the bottle and shutting the back before moving around to the front. "Okay," I say, pulling on my seat belt. "Where do the kids do their drinking in this town?"

Scott looks up from his phone for the first time in ten minutes and answers before Stiles has a chance. "Can we go by Allison's?"

"Dude, you invited her?" Stiles demands, betrayal in his voice. I can't blame him. I'm already risking too much with just these two losers. There's no telling what kind of dead I'm gonna end up if Allison's parents, you know, the scary hunters, find out I got their kid drunk.

"I didn't mean to!" He looks to me. "She said she needed away from her family, and it just kinda happened. She's sneaking out." He looks down at his phone. "She's already waiting for us."

I grip the wheel and close my eyes. _Freaking. Brat._ "Remind me how to get there," I say through gritted teeth, because I like Allison, as much as I don't like her family, and I'm not going to leave her stranded when she already when through the trouble of sneaking out. And it might be my fault anyway, what with my Rapunzel comment yesterday.

Stiles groans and throws himself back into the seat, crossing his arms sullenly.

We don't actually stop in front of her house, but rather at the end of her street. Because she's sensible and doesn't want to get caught. I can relate. The poor girl is waiting under a street lamp when we pull up, and Scott doesn't wait for me to come to a complete stop before throwing open the door and jumping out to meet her. Stiles takes the time get out and pull forward the seat for Romeo and Juliet to clamber into the back.

"Hey, Stiles, Ares," Allison greets, smiling brightly. I look back at her and give a salute. Her nose is red from the cold, but her eyes are bright with excitement. "Thanks so much for getting me." She pauses. "Hey, and I'm sorry Kate was being so weird yesterday," she says. "I'm not sure what that was all about."

My smile falters. I... I am so gonna be killed by werewolf hunters. Werewolf hunters that already think I might be a werewolf. But I smile back at her because I'm supposed to be the adult and being the adult means suppressing your problems and emotions for the benefit of the children.

"No problem, honey bunch," I say despite there being a big problem. I turn to Scott to give him a _look_. "No _sobrinos_ ," I order, and even in the dark I can see him go red. "Alright, where we heading?"

"Oh, um, actually," Allison speaks up hesitantly from the back. "Could we get Lydia?"

Stiles entire being just lights up. "Absolutely we can!" He points up ahead. "Turn left here," he says, because apparently his creepy crush borders on stalking and he knows where she lives. I look at him slowly, and he embraces his inner Scott with the puppy dog eyes he's displaying. _Ares, please_ , he mouths and I wonder how hard I have to bash my head into the wheel to deploy the airbag.

Bright side, though, Lydia doesn't live too far from Allison. She's waiting three doors down from the address Allison and Stiles give, and she's got a half full bottle in her hands. Stiles hops out and pulls the front seat forward for her. She eyes the Turtle in distaste before stepping forward.

"Lydia, hey, you're looking gre-"

"Question," I say, cutting Stiles off before he can finish his cringy greeting. "What's the bottle?"

"Tequila," she answers curtly as she settles into the back next to Allison. I turn in my seat to get a better look at it, and arch a brow at the brand. "What?" she demands. "My mom won't notice it missing."

"Mine would," I say under my breath. Then, louder. "Where am I going?"

"Jackson lives on twelfth," Lydia says, and Stiles and I both groan, but for different reasons.

"There's no more room in here!" I say, gesturing to full back seat. Lydia looks at Scott and Allison, tilting her head to the side.

"Allison will have to sit in Scott's lap," she says matter of factly.

I don't cry, but it's a close thing.

* * *

There's something of a park by the Preserve. It's got a picnic area, and a metal trash can Stiles immediately set alight, and a big ass rock in the middle of the clearing - which is all rock? Like what even is this? - that I parked my ass on to keep an eye out for all the drunk babies I somehow found myself responsible for.

"Don't finish it all, Stilinski!" Jackson snaps, snatching the bottle of Jack from Stiles' hands. Stiles, in turn, squawks in indignation.

"Be nice," I call out, glancing up from my phone and giving both the boys an eye. Not far from them, Lydia and Allison are sitting cross legged on the ground, talking and giggling as Lydia braids Allison's hair. Scott lies on his back, his head pillowed on Allison's legs, and he's looking up at her like she's the moon of his life as she runs her hands through his hair absentmindedly. The bottle of tequila sits forgotten next to them.

It's fucking adorable. I can't. I just. I can't.

" _Ares_ ," Stiles whines, stumbling to my rock and falling hard on his butt when he tries to sit. "Ares, he took my honey," he whines, resting his head on my thigh. I arch a brow and look down at him, but he isn't looking, and therefore doesn't remove his head.

"I think he did you a favor," I answer, reaching next to me and grabbing a water from the pack I made Scott carry for me. I hold it out in front of him. He picks up his head and looks at it in drunken confusion.

"What?"

"Drink, you dork."

Lydia bursts into a fit of giggles so intense, she squeaks when she tries to breathe. I'm not sure if she's laughing at something Allison said or at what I said, in which case, this girl really needs to sober up some.

"Lydia, _mi amor_ , drink some water," I call out. She waves her hand in acknowledgement before wiping at her eyes. I shake my head and notice out of the corner of my eye how Jackon slides up next to me, with a bit more control than Stiles did, and plops on the other side of me. He doesn't speak, and seems content to just sit, watching Lydia and Allison.

I sigh in resignation and send a text off to Derek.

 _I did a stupid  
_ (A)  
 _To be expected  
_ (D)  
 _RUDE  
_ (A)

"How are you related to McCall?" Jackson blurts, and when I look down at him, he's looking at me with squinted eyes, like he's trying to unlock the secrets of the universe. I only just manage to keep my laughter in.

"We're cousins," I tell him. "His mom is my dad's sister."

He rolls his eyes, and it's so exaggerated I'm worried those pretty blue eyes will go flying out. "No, not like that. Like. _How_." He says it with such emphasis I almost feel bad I don't know what this drunk child is talking about. "How is _that_ ," he gestures to Scott, who has picked up his head and is actively glaring at Jackson, "and _you_ ," he pats my calf, "the same? He's such a _loser_."

"You're a loser, Jackson," Stiles snaps, and raises a fist to Scott, who raises his own, laughing as he drops his head back down on Allison's lap.

"Shut up, Stilinski," Jackson shoots back, and I pat both their heads.

"No fighting."

Jackson scowls as Stiles sticks his tongue out at him. "No, but," Jackson goes on, looking up at me. "You're… You're…" He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "You're hot."

I choke on air, Stiles chokes on his water, and Scott sits up so fast he almost hits Allison in the face. "Did you just call my cousin _hot_?" Scott demands, scandalized. "Jackson, what the hell?!"

"Shut up, McCall, I wasn't talking to you!"

"No fighting," I repeat, struggling to hold in my laughter. Stiles wheezes next to me, and I pat his back. "Jackson, that's very nice of you to say, but no. _No_." He scowls, and it occurs to me that he probably isn't used to hearing that. "Dude, you're like twelve!"

"I'm sixteen!"

Allison throws her hands up. "I'm seventeen!" she proclaims, not to be left out of this sharing of information. Lydia claps in excitement.

 _Oh my god these babies_. I drop my face in my hands. "Talk to me in two years," I tell him. "When you're sober."

His expression darkens. Except instead of looking intimidating, he looks like a five year old throwing a tantrum. He snatches the bottle of Jack from where he set it down and wobbles away from my rock, sitting by himself, sulking.

"It's okay, Jackson," Stiles calls. "Ares doesn't like anyone." He looks up at me with wide Bambi eyes. If Bambi got his hands - hoofs? - on alcohol. "Right?"

"Right." And it's a lie, a horrible horrible lie that even Sonya can't help me with. But Stiles doesn't have to know that. I pat his head, and an idea - horrible idea because I am a horrible person - forms. I pull up snapchat and hold it up, swiping through the filters until I find the deer one that changes your voice. "Stiles!" He looks up, and grins up at the camera as I hold it so that both of us are on the screen, with added antlers and ears and adorable faces. I press record. "Say hi to Derek!"

"You suck!" Stiles says instead, and I almost drop the phone laughing.

"Derek has a snapchat?" Scott asks, and I shrug as I save the video onto my phone and pull up my messages.

"Probably not, so we're going this the old school way." I look up at Scott as I press send - for dramatic effect. "Messages." I don't have to wait long for an answer.

 **Derek (1 new message)  
** _What. in the Hell.  
_ (D)

I snort and look at Scott, who has sat up and taken the Tequila offered to him by Allison. He takes a swig, and I note how it doesn't seem to affect him?

"How you feeling, Scotty?" I ask, and he gives a thumbs up.

"Not feeling anything, actually."

"Ares!" Stiles exclaims, slapping my leg. "Ares, write that down! It's not science if you don't write it down!"

"Stop hitting." Instead of writing it down, I turn back to my phone.

 _Do werewolves get drunk? Asking for science.  
_ (A)  
 _What have you done?  
_ (D)  
 _That's a broad accusation and I'm going to need you to narrow it down some.  
_ (A)  
 _Ares.  
_ (D)  
 _Stiles and Scott wanted to know if werewolves can get drunk. They ambushed me. I couldn't just let them go alone.  
_ _Which is why I am currently babysitting 4 drunk teenagers and 1 not drunk werewolf boy.  
_ (A)  
 _You. You realize tomorrow is the full moon  
_ (D)  
 _I know this. I am aware. I do not need reminders.  
_ (A)  
 _Are you drinking too?  
_ _Who's driving  
_ (D)  
 _I am not drinking, I'm acting DD  
_ _I'm prob gonna cut them off here in a bit. I'll let you know if I need a last minute rescue from them  
_ (A)

Stiles is humming under his breath, tapping my leg to the beat of "You're Welcome." I look down at him and can't help but smile. "You comfy there, bud?" I ask, and he nods. Then shakes his head.

"Jacks!" he exclaims, pushing himself up, and I grab his arm to steady him. "Jacks, gimme my honey!"

"Piss off, Stilinski."

"Be nice," I call, copying and pasting Derek's response of _You wouldn't need a last minute rescue if you didn't go and try to get a werewolf drunk_ , but with every other word or so capitalized. Because I am nothing if not trash.

"Look at these little bitches gettin' their drink on."

My head snaps up in time to see one of the two men who have absolutely no reason being so close to the boys reach down and tug the bottle out of Jackson's grasp. They tower over the boys, and Stiles takes an unsteady step back as Jackson gets to his feet. Lydia and Allison look on with wide, scared eyes, and Scott stands, placing himself in front of the girls.

 _Shitshitshit_. I jump to my feet and rush forward.

"That's mine!" Jackson, full of that good ole liquid courage, lunges for the bottle, but the man, who is wearing a backwards snapback and has a _joint?_ tucked behind his ear, steps to the side. I only just get to Jackson's side in time to grab his arm and pull him back. Behind me, Scott and Stiles hiss my name in unison, and I feel Stiles grab my arm and try to tug me away.

"What's that, little man?" Snapback demands.

"I think he wants a drink," the other guy says, smirking.

"He does _not_ want a drink," I say in a rush, pulling Jackson back and holding a placating hand up to the two assholes that had to come and ruin the fun. "He is done drinking, so if you could back off, that would be fantastic."

Snapback scoffs, looking back at his friend before turning his attention back to me. "And who the fuck are you, bitch?"

I draw back, cocking my head to the side. It's one thing for Sonya or Warren to call me a bitch because I stole their clothes. It's a completely different thing for this fucker to actually call me a bitch. "I'm the one who will be calling the Sheriff if you don't back the fuck off right now. _Bitch_."

Snapback rolls his head back. "Oh, girl gots some steel-" I hold my phone up, and he stops short.

"Speed dial number two," I tell him, showing him the screen and that I only have to push call. "Test me." His mouth twists in a snarl and one of the girls lets out a cry when he takes a step forward, hand lifting, likely to snatch my phone away. Before he can make it too far, I can _feel_ a presence behind me. The warmth of a body close to my back. Tense and ready to spring.

" _Don't_ ," Scott growls, low and mean and from deep in his throat. " _Touch her_." The men step away in alarm, and shit, his eyes are definitely gold right now. I don't even have to look to know.

"We're going," I say, stepping back and pulling a resistant Scott with me. "We're _going_." He lets me move him, and the men only stand and watch as we make our retreat. "Girls, let's go." They scramble to their feet, each rushing to their respective boyfriend. Scott has lost the glow in his eyes, but he glares murderously at the two men as he lets Allison tug him away.

Lydia pulls at Jackson, but he jerks away from her and stares at Scott, eyes wide and oh. Oh _Jesus Christo_ , please do not let this boy have seen.

"Jackson, fucking move or I'll move you." I shove at his shoulder, snapping him out of his daze. He looks at me, then at Scott, then finally lets Lydia pull him away. I look back, and the men are watching in contempt, likely cursing us for bruising their masculinity.

"Have a nice fucking night," I throw over my shoulder. Snapback bares his teeth.

* * *

Getting everyone home was a chore.

"We are _never_ doing that again," I snap at Scott, who reclaimed the front seat after we dropped Stiles home. We had to swing by the house first so Scott could get the jeep, and then I had to wait outside for fifteen minutes while Scott made sure he actually got to bed.

"Like, seriously, did you have to _growl_ at them?" I demand. Scott scowls, glaring out the window.

"They were going to hurt you."

"They were not going to hurt-"

"They _were_ , Ares," he insists. I glance at him, and he looks so earnest I kinda have to believe him. Which sucks, because I just almost got murdered in front of a bunch of drunk kids. And I think that yeah, panic really is my constant state of being, because I feel absolutely nothing.

"We can't tell Derek that happened," I say finally.

Scott nods. "He'll kill me for almost letting you die."

I make a face. "More like he'll kill me for letting you out the night before the full moon."

The look he gives me is borderline scathing. "Really?" He shakes his head. "You're an idiot," he mutters, and it's very _You know nothing, Jon Snow_.

* * *

 **And we're back to the show's plot! Let's see how long it lasts.**

 **As always, shout out to reviewers, new followers/favs, and those of you who have been here for _ever_. New folks, welcome to the club, feel free to drop a review. Guys who have been here for a hot minute - holy crap, my dudes. **

**Also, yes, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, Ares is _hella_ ace. **

translations:  
 _Sabes que no estoy hablando de eso_ \- you know I'm not talking about that  
 _qué pendajadas_ \- what bullshit


	26. Chapter 26

The full moon is tonight, the alpha is _still_ out there with mind control powers, and I work literally all day. On top of that, freaking Scott stopped texting me back an hour ago because apparently I need to _srsly chill tf out ares_

"Ares?"

I don't scream, but it's a close thing. I whirl around, only just lifting my hands so I don't throw Tiny Feline across the room, and find Dr. Deaton standing at the doorway, frowning in concern.

I half expect him to say something about Wednesday - the appearance of Derek and what happened at the school - since I made it very clear Friday that we would not be talking about Wednesday and I just wanted to work and he had been so kind as to respect my wishes. But it's been half a week now, and I can't really hide behind excuses anymore if he wants answers.

"I think the kitten has missed you," he says instead, gesturing past me, and I look back as TF mews, stretching out for more pets. And I'm reminded of just why I love working here.

I clear my throat and go back to applying his medicine. "He just uses me for ear scritches," I accuse. "Have you found anyone to foster Tiny Feline once he's not disgusting?" I ask. The spots aren't as obvious anymore as the medicine works it's magic, and it's easier to see just how adorable this little shit is gonna be.

"I don't suppose you and Scott could take him?" Deaton asks hopefully, and I snort, drawing TF out of his doze. He lets out an annoyed mew before settling back down.

"Melissa isn't for that life. My _abuela_ had a mean old cat and I think it emotionally scarred her and my dad." I crinkle my nose at TF. "Not that you're a mean old cat," I coo at him. "You're just a Tiny Little Feline."

"Mind how close you get to him, Ares," Deaton warns. "Humans can get ringworm too."

I straighten and take a step back. "I was finished anyway," I tell him, picking up the kitten and taking him back to his cage, making sure he has food and water before pulling off my gloves and tossing them. "Maybe I can convince one of the deputies to take him in."

"Would they have time for him?"

I pause in washing my hands, frowning as I considered the question. Pauly and his wife both work full time, and Tara was allergic to cats… Which reminds me, I'm going to have to make sure my spare sweatshirt is in the Turtle before going to the station today. "Silverman might?" I shrug. He hadn't mentioned anything regarding a life outside of work. "If all else fails, I bet I can guilt Derek into fostering him."

"Derek Hale." Deaton blinks at me in surprise as I turn, pulling exactly three paper towels free to dry my hands. "You think he'd foster a kitten?" No doubt he's remembering how downright murderous Derek had seemed Wednesday. The image of Derek with a kitten - maybe while he's shifted and missing his eyebrows, waving a string or feather at it - is almost too much, and I have to fight back a laugh.

"I could ask. Though he is kinda living in a motel right now," I say, crinkling my nose at the problem with the plan. Are you allowed to foster a kitten if you don't have a permanent living situation? Not to mention the whole currently trying to figure out what to do with the Alpha thing. I don't say this to Deaton, but it's also something that needs consideration, I feel.

"I'm sure we'll figure something out for the cat," Deaton says, breaking my trail of thought. I blink up at him and nod. He pauses and studies me for a moment, and I know what he's going to ask before he even opens his mouth to do so. "How have you been, Ares?"

He says it with such concern I can't find it in myself to be annoyed. I sigh, dropping my shoulders. "Do I look so bad that you have to ask?"

He arches a brow. "Now, I didn't say that."

"The implication was there." I brush a flyaway out of my face. "It's cool. I'm cool. We're all cool," I tell him, and his expression makes it very clear that he doesn't believe a single one of those claims. "We're mostly cool," I correct, and it's mostly the truth.

If you ignore what happened Friday. Which Derek and I have. Sure, I had to cut my run short a bit when my ankle started aching, and Derek had given me a smug _I told you so_ look that made me wanna punch him in the face, but it was _okay_.

"You know," Deaton starts, "if you ever need to talk…" he offers, and I force a smile. He's being supportive. He cares. There's no reason to be upset about that.

"Thanks, Doc."

* * *

 **Human Puppy (7 new messages)  
** _im sorry i was mean earlier but u were bein naggy soo  
_ _stiles made first line  
_ _i made cocaptain  
_ _jackson wants to kill me  
_ _hes been weird w allison too  
_ _r u mad now  
_ (HP)  
 _1\. Congratulations on co-captian, mijo, and congrats to Stiles, wtf so proud of both of you  
_ _2\. Don't kill Jackson back, how is he being weird  
_ _And 3. I'm not mad. I've been at work  
_ (A)  
 _1 thanks  
_ _2 hes bein fake frendly an touchy an i think hes tryin to steal my girl?  
_ _3 good bc i need you to help me  
_ (HP)  
 _1\. You're welcome  
_ _2\. He's probably trying to make you jealous.  
_ _3\. Slash his tires  
_ (A)  
 _i cant slash his tires ares you sound like alicia. wat happened to bein the adult  
_ (HP)  
 _I am occasionally allowed to sin  
_ _Hey so off topic but wtf is the plan for tonight  
_ _Don't ignore me now we were doing so good  
_ _You're out of class stop ignoring me  
_ _SCOTT MCCALL  
_ (A)  
 _IM HAVING STILES TEXT YOU CHILL_

 **Stiletto (new messages)  
** _yeah so we're just gonna chain scott up in his room  
_ _Like i literally have chains  
_ _He was embarrassed so he's making me tell you  
_ (S)  
 _Jeesuhs  
_ _I mean, if it works?  
_ _I gotta go Tara is giving me mal ojo. Good luck! Don't die!  
_ (A)

* * *

"If it isn't my favorite incarnation of the God of War."

I look up from the computer I'm working on and smile brightly, tucking my hands under my chin for maximum cute. Deputy Silverman laughs, and I can feel Tara's eye roll from where she sits next to me. Silverman, whose first name is actually Daniel, leans against the counter, propping himself on his elbow.

"If this is your attempt to be favorite Deputy, you have to get in line behind Pauly," I remind him sweetly, and he huffs dramatically.

"What did Paulson do to deserve your love?" he demands. I tilt my head to the side and look into the distance, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Well. He _has_ been sacrificing free time to patrol my neighborhood recently," I remind him. Just yesterday I had flagged Pauly down to bestow upon him gifts of tortillas and coffee. Before the horrible event that was babysitting drunk teenagers, which. Never again.

Silverman groans, throwing his head back in a childish fashion. "And just today he bought me a water from the vending machine," I go on, holding up said water and giving it a little shake. He makes a face and swipes at it, but I pull it away before he can grab it.

" _I_ could have bought you a water if you asked," he complains.

"But alas, you weren't here yet."

Tara sighs loudly and stands, one of the wheels on her chair squeaking as it rolls back. "I haven't had enough caffeine to deal with this," she mutters, and then disappears down the hall toward the break room where the coffee and snacks are hidden. I frown before shrugging it off and turning my attention back to Silverman.

"Where you needing something? Trying to get me to make brownies again? I swear, between the lot of you-"

Silverman raises his hands in defense. "Whoa there." He glances toward where Tara left and leans in again. "I just wanted to check on how you were doing." He pauses before unnecessarily clarifying. "After Wednesday."

I inhale and look at the computer screen in front of me. He's just being nice. Don't get mad. Don't get mad.

"I'm fine." I look up, and he's doing this thing with his face, like he's trying to convey that he thinks I'm talking bullshit. It isn't nearly as impressive as Derek and his magical eyebrows, but I'll give the guy kudos for trying. "I am, honest." He doesn't look convinced. "Seriously, dude, I didn't even know anything was wrong until you guys showed up, so there's really no reason for me to be all that messed up by it," I tell him. It's a lie, completely and utterly, but _he_ doesn't know that, and that's all that matters.

"It doesn't hurt to check," he says finally.

"I mean, it will if I get tired of everyone bugging me about it and I end up on an episode of _Snapped_ ," I mutter, and he lets out a surprised laugh.

"Come on, it's because we care."

"You only want me for my baked goods." I crinkle my nose at him. Then, because I might as well since the guy is right here, I ask, "Soo. About Wednesday." He immediately adopts his Deputy Dan face and I think I might have started a conversation he isn't allowed to partake in. "Have you guys found anything out?"

He sighs. It's long suffering and wow. See if I bring cookies for his birthday. "I can't really tell you anything, Ares."

" _Y por qué no_?" I demand. "I was involved, don't I get to know about the progress made?" He doesn't answer and so I go on, dealing a low blow. "Bet Pauly would tell me."

Silverman huffs. "Look, we're working on it, but there just isn't that much to go off of."

I frown. "What about the number that texted all of us?"

He looks conflicted for a second before answering. "It was traced, but nothing came out of it." I frown, and open my mouth to argue, because surely it couldn't have been _nothing_. But before I could, Tara returns, and the conversation is abandoned. Silverman straightens from his lean at the look Tara gives him. "I'll just," he motions back to the bull-pin.

"You do that," Tara says dryly.

"Graeme," he salutes to Tara, then turns to me with a grin. "Aretha?"

I laugh, shaking my head. "Not my real name. Not even _close_."

"I'll figure it out, just you watch," he threatens, smiling all the while. "Maybe I'll just pull you over and make you hand over your license."

"You'd abuse your power just to figure out my first name?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" he calls over his shoulder as he disappears back to his desk. I shake my head and turn back to my computer. I can't focus, however, because I can just _feel_ Tara's judgement.

"Dude, what?" I demand, turning to face her. She makes a face.

"Don't give me attitude, Delgado," she chides. I roll my eyes. She looks at me, and I swear if she's going to mention Wednesday… but instead she leans forward, making sure Silverman is truly gone before going on. "I can't tell if you're being purposely obtuse or you're just that oblivious."

I frown. "What are you talking about?"

She levels me with a look, and wow. Holy hell, she gives Derek a run for his money. "The _flirting_ , Ares."

I choke. "We're not - I'm not -" She arches a brow at me and horror fills my very soul. "Have we been flirting?!"

" _He's_ been flirting with _you_."

I think back to our interactions. Sure, they involve banter, but I banter with everyone. And there's bribery with baked goods, but everyone tries to get on my good side for the baked goods. I make a distressed noise and grab Tara's arm.

"I thought we were just being bros!"

She looks at the grip I have on her arm and I immediately let go. "If that's how you make _bros_ , then I think you have more problems that Silverman." I whine and drop my head on the desk in front of me. This is. This is unnecessary. I don't have time to deal with this kind of thing. Not when I'm still dealing with the whole Derek thing. "It's not that bad," Tara assures me, and I turn my head to look at her. "He isn't horrible to look at, and he's a decent kid." I furrow my brow as I take this into consideration. Sure, Silverman is easy on the eyes. He's more of Warren's type though, with his blonde hair and brown eyes. Maybe he's bi? I wonder if I can find him on social media and send a link to Warren….

"Unless…" Tara hesitates. "Unless you don't _like_ …"

I frown before I realize what she's saying. "Oh. Oh, no," I say straightening and shaking my head. "I usually don't like anyone," I say with a shrug. Usually being the key word. Because now there's Derek Hale.

Asshole.

Tara gives me a confused look.

"It's a thing, don't think too hard about it," I say, and push my chair away with a laugh as she swats at me.

* * *

 _Shift at the Station is over, gonna head home now_

I send the message off to Stiles as I walk out of the station and make my way to where my Turtle is parked. It's so out of place surrounded by cruisers, and I'm about to send a snap of it to Warren and Sonya when my phone goes off in my hand. I frown at Stiles' picture before answering.

"What's u-"

"You need to _not_ come home," Stiles says in way of greeting, and I make a face as I check over the Turtle before unlocking it and hoping in.

"That's rude."

"No, I'm serious, a hundred percent," Stiles goes on as I turn on the car and wait for it to heat. "Like, Scott is not okay."

"Are you kidding me, then I have to go home!"

" _No_!" His voice is panicked. "He told me to not let you come home. The alpha is messing with his head and-" He pauses. "He's scared he's going to hurt you. Like, really hurt you."

I let his words sink in. Swallow hard against the panic that rises in my throat and for a split second I can hear the screeching of claws on metal and see gold eyes glaring through the darkness. I blink the image away, and I'm not in the school, but back in my car, back in the station's parking lot. Still, I'm not entirely interested in repeating _that_ particular experience.

"I… Where the hell am I supposed to go then?" I demand. Then, hit with an idea so fantastic it scares me, I say, "Have him call Allison."

"Alli-why?"

" _No_ _qué_ she's his anchor? Talking to her will calm him down."

There's a pause. "That's… not a horrible idea. You still shouldn't come home. Until I call you back."

"Stiles, what the shit, what am I supposed to do until then?"

"I dunno, but don't come home. Look, don't worry about Scott, he'll be fine. Just…" he huffs. "Stay away right now."

He hangs up before I can even argue. I stare down at my phone in disbelief.

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

I sit still for a second before shaking my head. I wonder what Angie is up to.

The lot of the diner is surprisingly full, and I'm forced to park closer to the end of the building, where it borders the Preserve. I'm finding that you can never truly escape those damn woods in this town, and so grip my keys tight as I quickly make my way around the Turtle and to the diner's front door. The _OPEN_ sign flickers in the window, and I can't help but think of the lamp post at the school parking lot, and the second time Derek and I came. I glance back toward the Turtle, toward the tree line, half expecting to see red eyes to stare back. There's only darkness, and I push the door open and walk in.

The usual suspects are here, the truckers with their never empty mugs of coffee, looking tired and in need of a bed. They'll probably drive through the night though. Also, the ever present Angie. But more than that, there's a loud group taking up two booths closer to the front. They're young, but too old to be high school. About my age, maybe as old as Derek. College kids? I wouldn't be too surprised if that were the case.

It occurs to me that I've never been here without Derek. It feels… wrong, somehow. I hesitate by the door, gripping the book I found stashed in my car to my chest. One of the boys in the loud group, fair hair and dark eyes, arches a brow in my direction, and it takes a fair amount of willpower not to crinkle my nose in disgust. The gesture reminds me too much of Elliot.

Before I can make my escape back to the Turtle, Angie notices me as she refills one of the trucker's mugs and uses the pot to gesture to an empty booth in the back corner. It's far enough from the loud group, and I take a breath as I cross the room toward it.

"I'll be with you in a sec," Angie says as I pass her, and I nod in acknowledgment. I slip into the booth, scooting as far in as I can, and set my book in front of me. I stare at it for a moment before pushing it aside and pulling out my phone.

 _The diner is weird without you_

I don't expect a quick response. It's the full moon, he's a werewolf; there are sure to be problems with him. Though last full moon he seemed pretty in control…

"What'll you be drinking then?" Angie demands, though not as impatient as she had been before. I think I'm growing on her.

"Oh. Um. Chocolate milk, please."

"Chocolate milk," she repeats, not making a move to write it in her pad. I nod, and she gives a long suffering sigh before walking away without another word. And okay, I might have been a little too optimistic there.

" _Nooo mi tortaaa!"_

I blink in surprise before looking down at my phone.

 **Derek (1 new message)  
** _And you're at the diner why  
_ (D)  
 _Stiles says I'm not allowed to go home because the full moon is making Scott not okay  
_ _Apparently they chained him in his room. Not that I'd know because I've been slaving away at work all day  
_ _ANYWHO I'm gonna see if Angie the waitress notices if I spend the night here bc despite all my self depreciation, I don't want to die at the hands of a mind controlled teenage werewolf  
_ (A)  
 _Jesus Ares no  
_ _You can't spend the night at the diner  
_ (D)  
 _I can. As long as Angie doesn't notice. It's fine, it'll be great. An adventure!  
_ (A)

Angie chooses that moment to return with my milk, and I note with delight how the straw she sets on my napkin has a bendy neck. My good mood is almost immediately soured as a loud outburst of laughter from the other tables makes me wince. Angie must notice, and she looks at the group in distaste.

"Nights like this are always the worst," she mutters to herself, and I look up at her in confusion.

"Mondays?"

She clicks her tongue and scowls. "The full moon."

"Oh." She shakes her head down at me and heads to the group as one of the boys holds up his empty cup and gives it an impatient shake. I make a face, and the guy from earlier catches it, smirks a slimy smirk and nudges the guy next to him.

"Gross," I mutter, going back to my phone.

( **Derek 1 new message)  
** _I'm on my way, don't lay out your blankets yet you idiot  
_ (D)  
 _No! Isn't the full moon going to make you lose your eyebrows?!  
_ (A)

 _I hate you.  
_ _I'm coming, don't be stupid until I get there  
_ (D)  
 _Oh wow Señor Lobito, someone is grumpy  
_ (A)

There's a disturbance in the force. I look up, and the Elliot wannabe is leaning over, talking to the boy next to him, nodding my direction more than once. It makes my skin crawl.

 _If you're really coming pls hurry  
_ (A)  
 _What's wrong  
_ (D)  
 _There's a guy making eyes at me and it's creeping me out. I need you to scare him away  
_ (A)  
 _Five minutes  
_ (D)

And I know for a fact that this diner is at least fifteen minutes away from Mason. If I grin like an idiot at my phone, no one can blame me.

* * *

 **Okay so FIRST OF ALL: yourpalmoony is a freaking saint and if anyone ever says otherwise they can fight me. Her story The Gloaming is fantastic and Ares would highkey adopt Nikita immediately and you're writing is perf and seriously motivated me through my issues with writing third person (which you'll get to see in the future). ALSO, Moony made this HELLA perf poster for Kerosene Hearts that you should go check out on tumblr bc it's perf and I love it.** **ANOTHER fantastic human! friendly-neighborhood-hufflepuff, bb I loved those character edits and everyone should go see them bc one of them spawned a Word of Galanerd fact for Ares. Both are found under the Kerosene Hearts and Matchbox Bodies tag on my tumblr.**

 **ALSO: kkiyomizu, you perfect human you. Seriously, ya'll I've been having some issues with the chapter I'm currently working on (32, which is a super important one) and here she comes with her brilliant ideas helping me break past a stubborn block. NOT TO MENTION hufflepuff-true, for dealing with my constant whining and letting me bounce ideas off of her.**

 **Okay I'm done - EXCEPT I'M NOT! Everyone who has left a review, I appreciate all of you, those who have faved/followed, welcome to the party, and my longtime friends, strap in, bc the next couple chapters are gonna be a bit rough for everyone involved**

 **Catch ya on the flip side, y'all**


	27. Chapter 27

A figure moves into the booth across from me, and I grin as I set my book aside.

"Yay, you're her-" I stop short, because the person in front of me is not Derek Hale. For starters, the eyebrows are all wrong. Much too light and not nearly full enough. No, it's the guy from the other group, and he's sitting at my booth like he belongs. Which he doesn't. He absolutely does not, and he needs to get out of that seat before I throw my milk at him.

" _A Werewolf of Paris_ ," he reads, pulling the book towards him with a finger and flipping it over to get a better look. "Isn't there a movie about this?"

I furrow my brows. " _An American Werewolf in Paris_? Yeah, no, that has nothing to do with this book." The guy makes a face, like he doesn't appreciate being called out on not knowing what he's talking about.

"What's this about then?"

There are times I wish I had Derek's skill to convey how stupid I think someone is with just my eyebrows. But alas, I cannot. "A werewolf. In Paris." The guy rolls his eyes and leans back a bit. "Is there a reason you're sitting here?" I ask, reaching for my book. He pulls it back, and the noise of disgust that comes out of my mouth would have shamed any decent person.

"My friends and I saw you sitting here all by yourself." He jerks his head back to the group. The boys are watching, snickering amongst themselves, and the girls look embarrassed. One girl in particular, a blond, mouths _I'm so sorry_ to me. "And we thought you could use some company."

"Right," I draw it out, and look around for Angie. Surely she, with her special brand of customer service, can help me in my time of need. But she's stuck with some old couple that won't shut up, despite the disdainful frown she wears. "Well, sitting alone was intentional," I tell him. "I'm waiting for someone."

"You could wait with us," the boy says without missing a beat, and it takes everything in me to keep from slamming my head into the table. Maybe if I'm unconscious or dying he'll get the hint.

"I'd prefer not to," I say, tilting my head to the side. "So, if you would give my book back, that would be great." I hold my hand out for it. He scowls, just for a split second, before looking down at the book. A grin spreads across his face.

"I'll only give it back if you come sit with us."

Are you. Kidding me. Right now.

The guy has a smug look on his face, like he's proud to have cornered me. Which honestly, if I didn't want to join them before, I definitely want nothing to do with this fuckboi now. I look to Angie for help, but she's serving someone coffee. She catches my eye, and nods to the door knowingly.

The bell chimes, and in walks _Señor Lobito._ He pauses for only a moment to glance around, and when he sees the asshole in my booth, he narrows his eyes and scowls a murderous kind of scowl that would look fantastic for the cover of _Werewolf Diaries_.

Oh thank God.

"Enjoy the book then," I say, pulling my hand back. His expression darkens, and his hand shoots out, latching onto my wrist and squeezing hard. He tugs me toward him roughly, and the edge of the table digs into my ribs.

My reaction is without thought.

Fuckboi sputters in rage as chocolate milk drips down his face and front. "You fucking _bitch_ ," he snarls, jumping out of the booth and halfway pulling me with him. He's faster than I thought he'd be, and stronger, and I don't have time to react when he raises his hand.

But Derek apparently does.

He appears, seemingly out of nowhere like the creature of the night that he is, and he's got his hand wrapped around Fuckboi's raised wrist. He's leaning in close - looming, really.

"Let her go."

I try to tug my wrist free to maybe do to some damage control, because the asshole's friends have gotten up and are starting our way like an angry mob from an old horror movie, but with silverware instead of farm tools. But the guy seems to lack self-preservation or has some _huevos_ the size as Texas. Probably the former.

"Fuck off. This isn't your business."

"Jesus, Davis, just leave her alone," one of the girls says. A blonde who looks on with horror. The same blonde who offered me condolences earlier. I'm not sure if it's at her buddy's actions or at Dereks. Both, probably.

"Shut up," he snaps back, trying to pull free from Derek's grip, and when that doesn't work, he tightens his grip on _my_ wrist and I cry out in shock as he jerks me forward out of the booth completely.

This is a very big mistake on his part.

Derek wrenches the asshole's arm back as his other hand snakes around his throat. The color drains from the fuckboi's face and his eyes go wide as Derek pulls him close.

" _Let. Her. Go._ " His voice is a low, almost feral growl, and oh my God. Derek's gonna kill this guy. The guy gasps, eyes flickering between me and Derek, before he opens his hand, and I pull free, stumbling back, cradling my wrist to my chest. The diner has gone silent, and one of the boys has his phone out, and he's talking frantically as he moves away from the commotion.

"...attack my friend at the diner…"

Jesus Christ, things just keep getting better and better, don't they.

Derek hasn't let go of the guy.

"Der. Jesus, Derek, _stop_." I reach out and catch the back of his jacket. "Derek." He looks back at me, and the darkness in his eyes softens. "He's not worth it," I insist, grabbing his arm. It's shaking with pent up rage. " _Please_."

For a second I don't think he's going to listen, and I'm going to witness a murder. But he inhales deeply, shaking his head as he looks back to the asshole.

"If I see you here again," he says, voice sharp, controlled but only just, "or anywhere near her again, I will _rip_ _out_ your throat." And he absolutely means it, if the tick in his jaw is anything to go by. "Do you understand?"

The asshole gives a short nod and croaks out a raspy, "yeah."

"Good."

And Derek shoves him back into his gathered group of friends. The girls flinch away, and the boy he had been talking to when I first came in catches him. Derek steps back and turns back to me, expression softening, eyes checking me over for any obvious signs of damage.

"Fucking freak!"

Derek looks back to the group, positioning himself between them and me. The asshole has righted himself, and rubs at his wrist. It's his friend that had shouted out. He turns to face us, and it isn't lost on me how Derek draws himself taller, squaring his shoulders. Literally raising his hackles. The asshole takes an alarmed step back.

"I called the cops, so don't even try anything else," the friend continues, holding up his phone tauntingly and not realizing the very clear danger he's in.

"That's enough." I blink in surprise to see Angie moving between them, looking absolutely done with the whole thing. "You wanna involve the Sheriff, fine," she says, leveling them with a look. "But you do it outside my diner."

The fuckboi straightens his jacket, having gathered some courage from his friend's example. "Fine," he snaps, glaring past Derek at me. "Hope your bitch is worth it."

Derek takes a step forward, and you can see the asshole's soul leave his body. "Der, no." I tug him back, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze before glaring at the asshole.

"Out," Angie orders, pointing at the group. She turns to us. "You. Sit." I look back at the booth. Half covered in chocolate milk. My book is pretty much ruined. And I only just started it. "The other booth," she says in exasperation.

The group files out, and a sort of calm returns to the diner. I let out a breath and drop my head on Derek's arm. "Jesus. Je _sus_ , that was intense."

Derek doesn't speak, but he leads me to the booth behind the one I had been waiting at. I slip into the side facing the door, and he slips in next to me. He lets me hold onto his arm, and doesn't say anything as he takes my hand in his. I think it's for his comfort as much as it is for mine.

"You okay?" I ask, because he's rigid, tense, and glaring out the window at the group like he wants nothing more than to jump out and tear them to pieces. He inhales deeply and holds it for a second before nodding once. "That was… that was because of the moon, right?" I ask quietly, because honestly, there can't be another reason for that reaction.

He doesn't answer.

"There were better ways you could have handled that," Angie says in annoyance as she starts cleaning the mess of milk.

"He deserved that milk-" I start to argue, and she clicks her teeth, grabbing my book and wiping it down as best she can before tossing it toward us. It lands on the stable with an unsavory _thwap_.

"Not _you_. _You_." She gives Derek a look. "Kill the boy, why don't you?"

Derek doesn't answer, but his expression is answer enough. His brows furrow, and the glare he gives her would make a weaker human shake in terror. But Angie is, as previously stated, probably an Angel of the Lord, and Derek's glare does nothing to her.

"Sheriff will probably be here soon," she goes on.

"I'll bail you out if you get arrested," I say, and mean it. "I don't think you will though. I'll talk to whoever they send."

"They like you at work that much?" he asks, and his voice is rough, but the tone is lighter, not as scary werewolf as before.

"Derek Hale, they _love_ me at work." He hums, and the rigidness of his posture melts away as I rest my head on his shoulder. "I'm the best."

The red and blue flashing lights appear not even five minutes later. Angie goes out to meet them, and I very much want to brain myself on the table when I see that it's actually the Sheriff that showed up. With Silverman.

"Aw, Christ, are you serious?" Sheriff Stilinski gripes after walking in with the asshole and he points us out. Silverman follows close behind, and gives a quizzical look at Derek.

"That's the guy that attacked me," the asshole says, trying to push past Stilinski to get to Derek. "Nearly broke my wrist. Threatened to rip out my _throat_." He points at said throat dramatically, as if we don't know what a throat is.

The Sheriff lets out a long suffering sigh, holding his hand up. "Okay, okay." He looks to us as Derek slides out to meet them, and when I move to follow him, he keeps an arm out to keep me in the booth, away from the boy. "Angie, help me out here, will ya?" She doesn't seem to like it, but Angie steps up anyway. "What happened?"

"I just told you what happened-"

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to Angie," Stilinski says sternly, and the guy snaps his mouth shut. "Angie?"

She wipes her hands on her apron before starting. "Girl was minding her own business when this boy started pestering her. And I suppose she told him no too many times, because next thing he's pulling her into the table and she's throwing her drink at him and he's making like he wants to hit her." The Sheriff looks at the boy sharply and he takes a step back in alarm. "Well, her boy was walking in and saw that, and I can't say I blame the way he reacted."

"You tried to _hit_ her?" Silverman demands.

"She threw her drink on me!"

"Sounds to me she had good reason to," Sheriff Stilinski says, and his voice takes a deadly sort of calm that only comes from great anger. Demons run and all that. "Ares, he grab you first?"

"Yup."

"He try to hit you before Derek jumped in?"

"Yup."

"Do you want to press charges?"

I blink in surprise and the asshole throws an arm out. "Are you kidding me, you're just gonna take her word for it?!"

"It isn't just her word, it's Angie, it's one of the girls outside, and I bet if I look, it's the security camera too," Sheriff Stilinski says, and little by little you can see the asshole's tough guy facade chip away bit by bit. "So the best thing you can do after attacking _my_ receptionist thirty minutes after she got off her shift is sit down and _shut. Your. Mouth._ "

And holy shit. Sheriff Stilinski. Even Derek seems shocked, if his thunderstruck expression is anything to go by.

"You-your receptionist?" The asshole looks between me and the Sheriff.

"The little girl works at the Sheriff's department, didn't you know?" Angie says, and it's the most cheerful thing I've ever heard her say. Ever.

"Ares. You want to press charges?" Sheriff Stilinski repeats.

"I." I look around, unsure of what to do. "No?"

Silverman and the Sheriff seem a bit disappointed. "Get out of here," the Sheriff orders the asshole, whose jaw drops in disbelief.

"You're not going to do anything to him?!"

"He acted in defense of his friend. Who you attacked. Who is very well liked among the deputies of Beacon County," Silverman says, adopting his Deputy Dan persona. "You're lucky she isn't pressing charges, because it would not be a pleasant experience."

The asshole scowls. "Fucking bullshit," he mutters, turning on his heels and storming away.

"You know, I think his tag was expired," Silverman says once he's out the door.

"Let him go," the Sheriff sighs before turning to face us. "What are you doing here?"

"Food. Didn't wanna cook. No dinner. I'm dying," I say, dropping my hands on my stomach and mimicking a hunger growl as I slouch into the booth. "And it feels blasphemous to be here without Derek, so."

Which leads him to turn to Derek, who had been suspiciously quiet this whole time. "Did you really threaten to rip that boy's throat out?"

He doesn't even have the decency to act ashamed. "If he came near Ares again."

Silverman draws back in surprise at Derek's calm tone, and he looks between us, brows furrowed. The Sheriff, however, studies Derek closely, as if looking for a lie. He must find whatever he's looking for though, because he gives a nod and clasps Derek's shoulder.

"Good man. Make sure she get's home alright." He looks to me. "You, young lady. Stop getting into these situations. Between you and Stiles, I'm going greyer than I have any right to be."

I draw back in offense. "Excuse you, don't blame me for your unsightly aging." He gives me a look. "And it's not my fault some fuckboi doesn't know how to take a no."

"I know, I know. Just be more careful."

"I'm the most careful. Everyone else sucks."

He looks like eh wants to argue, which, rude, but instead just shakes his head. "Angie," he says, nodding her way before turning to go.

"Sheriff."

Silverman seems hesitant to go, and he looks at Derek almost suspiciously before turning to follow the Sheriff. And shit. What if Tara had been right?

"That was fun," I say under my breath as I move over, making room for Derek. He slides in next to me as Angie pulls out her pad.

"Drink?"

* * *

"You didn't have to come along, you know," I tell Derek, waiting for him to meet me on the porch. Stiles had called some fifteen minutes ago; he had to go home, and Scott was still handcuffed to the radiator, and it would be best if Melissa didn't come home to see her kid like that. "I'm sure he's fine by now."

"Fine," Derek drawls, making his way up the steps. "With the full moon. And the Alpha messing with his head."

Asshole werewolf with his stupid logic.

I crinkle my nose. "Touchè. But he has his anchor now. I made him call Allison. Maybe he'll be all cool and collected like you now." I pause as I unlock the door. "Almost breaking some guy's arm aside."

Derek huffs. "He deserved it."

"Oh, absolutely, I'm not arguing with that," I assure him, pushing open the door. "But you could have also, you know, _not_ done that." I look back at him as I flick on the lights and hang up my keys. "Not that I don't appreciate you defending my honor like that, because I do. But just know I totes would have shanked the dude with a fork if you weren't there."

"I believe that," he says. "Not a doubt in my mind."

"Scotty! You okay, _mijo_? I call out, making my way to the stairs. "Still chained to the radiator?" There isn't an answer, and Derek catches my arm. I look back at him, and his brows are furrowed as he stares at the stairs. "What?"

"He isn't there."

"I'm sorry, _what._ " I pull free and rush for the stairs. "Scott, you shit!"

"Ares, stop!" And there's a pair of arms around my middle, lifting me off the bottom step and pulling me back. Derek sets me down by the couch, and I stare up at him in shock.

"Did you _just_ -"

"Stay here," he orders, cutting me off. Which. How _rude_. "I'll check."

"Or I can check since it's my house," I counter, because I'm not a fan of how he just manhandled me. "And Derek Hale, if you ever pick me up like that again-"

"I'll send an apology letter later, complete MLA format," he calls over his shoulder as he heads up the stairs, leaving me with my ruined mood. That. That asshole. With his stupid quips. And well-fitting jeans. And-

We're not going down that rabbit trail; danger that way leads.

"Asshole," I mutter, crossing my arms. " _Quédate aquí,_ he says. _Como si fuera su casa_. No concept of _casa ajena_." Though, I will give him some leeway. He has slept here, and helped cook… Still an asshole werewolf.

I wander into the kitchen, because fuck Derek Hale, I do what I want, and wonder where the hell Scott could have gone to. The backyard borders a wooded area that eventually turns into the Preserve, but not for a mile or so. If we're lucky, he just went for a walk. To stretch his legs. Maybe eat a couple bunnies-

The back door is open.

Which is. Not fantastic.

I move into the kitchen, slowly, and head for the counter where Melissa keeps the knife block. Because I have seen entirely too many movies with Warren where some stupid girl goes Nancy Drewing without some sort of self defense and end up super dead.

Plus, being a minority and not a virgin has the stats against me.

The door isn't open all the way, and it swings gently on its hinges. I take in a breath as I step toward it, gripping the handle of the knife tightly as I grab the knob and pull it open all the way. If I expected to see Scott just sitting there snacking on Bambi, then I am sorely disappointed. But also relieved. I make to close the door, letting out a breath I had been holding, only for it to catch at my throat when movement out to corner of my eye catches my attention.

A figure moves in the dark, and a part of my wants to say it's just Derek coming to give me shit for not staying put where he told me to. But it moves too slowly, too carefully, calculating as it hugs the shadows.

And there's a voice screaming in my mind, just shrieking for me to move, _muevete, Aracely_ , because this is not something I want to face.

But I've made a habit of making poor decisions, and face it I do.

It stops where it is, standing by the table, just in the shadows. The knife shakes before slipping from my hand, clattering on the floor, and I open my mouth to call for Derek, because what's in front of me isn't him, but my throat has gone dry and my lungs seem to have seized.

The figure takes a step forward, and his eyes flash gold.

 _Fuck. Me._

* * *

 ** _welp._**

 **As always, bless y'all for leaving reviews and following/fav the story. I adore all of you.**

 **Sooo it's getting that time of the semester where everything is starting to be due, so I won't be able to work on this as much until the winter break. I'll post 28 next week (bc i can't be so cruel as to leave you with _that_ ) and _maaaaybe_ 29 after that, but I won't post past that until things chill. I appreciate the patience - and lets be real, this isn't the first time I've had to disappear for a minute. But if I counted right, that's only like, 3 weeks without an update after the last one.**

 **Stay schway my dudes!**

Translations

 _Quédate aquí_ \- stay here _  
_ _Como si fuera su casa_ \- as if it was his house _  
_ _casa ajena -_ strange house, like when you visit a house for the first time and aren't comfortable doing anything


	28. Chapter 28

**Please, please,** _ **please**_ **mind the note at the bottom. Mainly note 3**

* * *

The brilliant thing about track and cross country is that it gets you used to running. Running on uneven ground. The not so brilliant thing about track and cross country is that they don't let you do it in Converse, in the middle of the woods without a trail, and they never seem to think having a bloodthirsty werewolf chasing you is a good idea.

I can't hear Scott behind me, not with the blood pounding in my ears, but he's there. I can feel it. I don't see where I'm going, a result of the combination of vision blurred with tears and the confusion that comes from everything looking the damn same. It feels like a sick parody of my last ill fated run, except now the mantra is _fuckfuckfuckyou'regonnadieSHIT_

There's a loud snarl somewhere to my left, and I duck under a low hanging branch as I change course. My shoe slips out from under me, and I stumble, my heart leaping to my throat because this is it, this is where he's going to jump.

But I manage to right myself, and he _doesn't_ jump.

 _He's playing with you_. _He's going to kill you._

Some desperate part of me clings to the hope that the years of running will give me some sort of advantage, that I'll outrun him, just long enough for Derek to realize what's happened and find us. That I won't end up being another body left to be found by idiot teenagers in the middle of the night.

But the stats have been against me since the start.

I scream as a heavy body crashes into me from behind, knocking my legs out from under me. I land hard, the air rushing out of my lungs and my face slamming into a bed of wet leaves and twigs and hard dirt. I'm left stunned for a second, and the weight shifts enough for me to try and pick myself up.

" _Stop_!" I scream, try to scream, but it's mangled with a sob. I kick out, and feel it catch something hard, and Scott stumbles back, snarling in annoyance. I take the opportunity to push myself up to my hands and knees, before a hand grabs my leg and drags me back, claws digging through my jeans.

" _Nononono_!" I scramble for something to hold onto, something to grab, but my fingers slip through the grass and leaves. Clawed hands tangle themselves into the back of my sweatshirt, and I hear tearing fabric as I struggle to break away. He grips my shoulder, and before I can process what's happening, I'm on my back, Scott looming over me. My breath catches in my throat only to be ripped out in a scream as he brings a hand down. Time seems to stop for a split second, and through my tear blurred vision, I catch a glimpse of his eyes.

There's nothing of Scott in them; there is only the wolf. And the wolf knows exactly what he's doing.

I raise an arm to block him, and it deflects his slash enough to miss my throat, but still drags across my collarbone and shoulder. He had put most of his weight into it, and I use it to my advantage, shoving on his shoulder as hard as I can. He tumbles off to the side, and I roll away. In my dash to get away, I notice a large, thick branch on the ground, and I snatch it up as I jump to my feet.

I can't outrun him. But maybe I can beat some sense into him.

I turn, swinging, and the branch catches Scott on the side of the head as he lunges at me. The blow makes my hands shake, and Scott crumples to the ground. For a split second I hope.

"Scott?" I call, and my voice shakes. He moves to stand, and when he turns to face me it _is_ Scott. Stupid puppy Scott looking absolutely horrified at what he had just done.

But it lasts only a second, and he shakes his head. When he looks up his eyes are gold, and there's nothing left of my little cousin in the being in front of me.

"Scott, stop," I beg, stepping back as he moves forward. "Scotty, _please_ -" My foot catches on something - a branch, a root - and he lunges.

He doesn't make it.

A large figure intercepts him, and I watch in horror as they fall away in a tangle of claws and snarls and snapping teeth. It's near impossible to tell who's who, even with the bright moonlight streaming through the trees, and it doesn't last long enough for me to process what's happening.

There's a snap, a bone breaking, and Scott howls in pain.

Derek stands over him, hand wrapped around his arm, and he gives it another squeeze, judging by Scott's second scream of pain. Except this one is human, and there's nothing left of the wolf in his voice.

Derek raises a clawed hand, much like Scott had done to me, and God. _God,_ Derek's going to kill him. Not just scare the shit out of him like he had the guy at the diner. Derek means to _kill_ him. Scotty.

"Derek, don't!" I cry, stumbling as I try to stand, falling back down by the tree I'm half hidden behind. Derek lets out a growl, low and feral. "Derek, _please_." He glances back, and his eyes are burning bright blue, his face warped.

"He tried to _kill_ _you_." And he must squeeze Scott's arm, because he lets out a pained whimper.

And I blink, because yes. Scott just tried to kill me. If Derek hadn't appeared… "He-He didn't know," I say. "Der, he didn't… He couldn't-" My voice cracks and I can't hold back the tears that have welled up. " _Please_."

He does nothing for a second, and then turns back to Scott. He shoves his arm away, and steps back as he writhes on the floor, cradling his broken arm. The tension doesn't leave his body though, and when he turns back to me, his face has smoothed out, no longer animalistic, but there's a barely kept rage in his expression. His eyes flicker.

And despite this, I can only feel relief when he approaches. He stoops down and takes a second to give me a once over, his eyes narrowing at the blood seeping into my sweater as I hold it to the slashes Scott left me with. He makes a sound in his throat and moves back a bit like he means to go back to Scott, and I reach out and grab his jacket.

"Der, please," I beg, and his expression softens as I go on, voice shaking. "I just wanna go home."

He exhales deeply and gives a single nod, scooping me up without a word, careful not to jar my shoulder.

Scott groans and tries to push himself up.

Derek pauses by him, lets him see what he had done, and the terror in Scott's eyes when he looks up at us is almost too much to bare.

"Get your ass to the house," Derek snarls before setting off.

"Ares?" Scott calls as he's left behind. He sounds so heartbroken, and his face is twisted in pain.

I duck my face in Derek's neck, and he holds me closer as I let out a sob.

* * *

"I can't be this anymore."

Scott stands at the back door, and he's cradling his arm to his chest. Derek turns away from where he sat me on the kitchen counter and faces him. He found one of Melissa's four fully stocked first aid kits, and has it open next to me. My sweater, ruined and in the way, has been discarded, and I'm left with only my undershirt so Derek could get at the scratches across my shoulder. They're shallow, but long, and are bleeding sluggishly through the bundle of paper towels I have pressed against them

"You can't change what you are," Derek says, and his voice is tight. "Once bitten, there's no going back."

"I almost killed her!" He exclaims, throwing his arm out, and then wincing upon remembering that it's out of commission. "I can't - Jesus, Derek, if I had done that…" His voice cracks, and I have to look away from him. If he had succeeded, mine wouldn't be the only body left in the woods, if Derek's reaction was any indication.

Derek glances back at me, and seems to consider his options before letting out a long suffering sigh.

"The alpha's the one doing this to you," he reminds Scott. "You want to be safe to be around again, you have to get rid of the alpha."

Scott takes a step into the room, and Derek shifts, completely putting himself between me and him. Scotty must notice, his face falling a bit before he speaks. "How- how do I do that?"

"You help me kill it."

I blink up at his back, because _what_.

"How am I supposed to-"

"It wants you, Scott. It wants you, and you're the only one that can draw it out. You help me find it, and you help me kill it, and it won't control you anymore."

It feels like he's leaving something out, but I'm not really in the right state of mind to worry about that. Scott seems to consider it.

"And I'll be safe then?" he asks cautiously.

"You'll still be a teenaged werewolf, but you won't have a revenge driven monster in your head telling you to kill people," Derek drawls. Scott's quiet for a second. He glances past Derek at me, and for a split second I imagine his eyes flashing gold. But they stay soft brown, and his expression hardens with determination.

"Alright. I'll help."

"Good. Now get out." Derek turns to face me again, and he keeps his face carefully neutral.

Scott hesitates. "Ares…"

"Go, Scott," Derek says, voice hard.

"I'm sorry."

I drop my head into Derek's chest and choke back a sob after he disappears out of the room. Because it's fucked. It's all so _fucked_. But I've been through a lot of fucked things lately, and I've already had a breakdown in the last seven days, and I'm not interested in having another.

"Are you internalizing?" Derek demands incredulously. I look up and wipe at my face. He's got this look of disbelief. "Jesus, Ares, you can't just-"

" _Qué quieres que hago_?" I demand. " _Que lloro? Que grito como la pinche Llorona_?" He stares down at me in surprise, and I can't blame him, because these aren't my words. They're Elisa's. I take a breath and look away. Because he doesn't deserve this. "I'm sorry," I say quietly. "I just… _Dios mio_ , I can't cry anymore, Derek."

He doesn't say anything at first, and I half expect him to argue. Like Alicia had when she finally got me out of Dad's house.

"I'm sorry," he says instead, and my head snaps up to look at him in surprise. He reaches next to me and grabs something from the kit.

"It's okay," I say, watching with dread as he tears open an alcohol pad.

"It's not." He dabs at the scratch closest to my collarbone, and I bite back a hiss at the cold and the pain. "Sorry," he repeats softly, and rests his free hand on the back of my arm, just above my elbow. He continues to clean, but the pain is gone, and that _fucker_.

I look down, trying to see if there are any black lines in his hand to confirm my suspicions. But he lifts the hand cleaning my shoulder and presses it to my jaw, gently tilting my head to the side.

"You're blocking the light," he says, arching a brow at me. I'd narrow my eyes at him, but it's distracting when he still has his hand there.

"You're a werewolf, you don't need the light." He hums, and only moves his hand when sure I won't move my head back. "You're not subtle," I tell him, letting him go back to work.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

It doesn't take him long to clean the cuts, and he finishes with a smear of antibacterial and a layer of gauze on each.

"Bit much, isn't it?" I ask, trying to watch as he presses a bandage on the last, smallest cut. "They aren't too bad, are they?"

"You might want your aunt to look at it in the morning."

"I'd prefer not to." He gives me a look. "I don't wanna have to lie about what happened." He steps back, and I watch as he starts reorganizing the kit to put it away.

"It might scar," he says carefully, and I can't find it in myself to be bothered.

"My bikini body," I lament dryly, and Derek struggles to keep his expression schooled. "Are you going to stay?" I ask as he closes the kit and moves away to put it back where he found it, and hopefully it'll be awhile before Melissa notices it had been used.

He nods, not looking up at me. "I'm not leaving you here with _him_ alone." The emphasis he puts on "him" is full of contempt.

"It's not his fault-" I start to defend, but stop short at the dark expression that comes over Derek's face.

"It doesn't matter that he didn't mean to do it, Ares," he says. "What matters is that he did it. This is the second time in a week he's tried to do this," he reminds me, and I let out a whine, because he's right. This is the second time, and he got much closer to succeeding this time around. "And I can't promise I'll be there if he tries it again." He says it through gritted teeth, like he hates the thought.

And it occurs to me that he must have been just as terrified earlier.

"You were here this time," I remind him, reaching out and catching his hand. My palms had been skinned up again, but he takes my hand gently, turning it over in his own.

He looks down at me, and there's pain in his eyes.

"I almost wasn't," he says quietly, and squeezes my hand, just barely.

"But you were." Not thinking, I bring up his hand to cradle it to my chest, near my heart. "I'm still alive because of you." I pause, watching how his face smoothes out, how his eyes dart down before meeting my own again. "And I appreciate you, Derek Hale."

He starts to pull away, but seems to change his mind last minute, and instead just moves his hand to my cheek, stepping close as he cups it. No one can blame me for leaning into it, for my hand to follow his and hold on to his wrist.

"I-" He seems to struggle for a moment. "I appreciate you too, Ares Delgado." He pauses - hesitates - before leaning down and my breath catches in my throat. He leans his forehead on mine.

And he has the most beautiful eyes.

"You're… Ares, you're probably the only good thing to come out of Beacon Hills," he says softly, and if I hadn't already told myself I was done crying, there would most definitely be tears.

"You're just saying that because I feed you," I croak, fighting back the lump in my throat, because _what_. He can't just _say_ that. He huffs, closing his eyes.

"Impossible human," he says, but the corners of his lips quirk up. He opens his eyes and pulls back a bit. His eyes are searching, and he must hear my heart pounding in my chest. Because he's still so _close_ , and despite everything that's happened tonight, I can't help myself from glancing down at his lips and I can't help but _wonder_.

If my life was a kdrama, I imagine this would be the scene where the world slows. The lights soften, and the camera does that thing where the lights in the background turn into little hearts.

"Ares," he says, voice low and drawing me out of my thoughts. I blink and look up at him, my face flushing when I realize I had been caught. "I meant what I said."

"I'm sure there are better things in Beacon Hills than me," I tell him. "Angie's pretty cool."

He struggles to keep his face straight. "Angie doesn't make me laugh." He pauses, and his expression is so _soft_. So _open_. And I come to the realization that maybe I won't need Sonya to help me figure out Derek Hale after all. But this is a conversation for another time. When I'm not recovering from almost being murdered and Derek is less likely to go and murder Scott. He must realize this too, because he sighs, and this time he does pull away, and I stop myself from following.

"I… I washed your clothes, if you don't wanna sleep in this," I tell him, reaching out and tugging at his shirt. It feels like such a shitty transition after what just happened-because something _did_ just happen. Something has shifted. "They're in my room."

He nods.

"Alright." He steps back and, with his hands on my waist, helps me down from the counter.

I move toward the living room, and he catches my wrist. "Hang on," he says, and goes to the back door. I watch in confusion as he turn the lock, and tests its weight. Content that it won't spring open at the first gust of wind, he comes back to me.

"What was that?" I ask as he leads me to the living room, hand at the small of my back. "Scott's probably not gonna try and run off now."

"It's not for Scott," he say, leaving me by the couch as he goes to the front door and check the lock. "It's for in case you sleepwalk."

"I haven't sleepwalked - slept walked? - since I was five, thank you."

He hums.

We have to pass Scott's room to get to mine, and it isn't lost to me how Derek keeps me along the wall, away from the door.

"Is he okay?" I ask quietly. Derek tilts his head, as if listening, and lets out an annoyed growl.

"He's fine."

Derek walks into the room first, and he goes straight for the window. "I'm not going to sleepwalk out the window."

"You might." He checks the lock, and draws the curtains shut. "Better safe than sorry."

"You're being paranoid."

"Maybe."

I cross the room and grab his clothes, which I have folded on my trunk. "Clothes?"

"Thanks." He stands there for a moment as I go to my dresser and pull out a pair of pj pants and a shirt I had stolen from Aaron or Warren. I'm not sure who. I consider, for a brief moment, going to the bathroom to change. But the bathroom is closer to Scott's room, and… I'm not too sure I'm ready for that yet.

Besides. We all changed on the same bus back in highschool for track meets if we had to. And I've seen Derek half naked before. That had been great. Did things to my little Ace heart I didn't think were possible.

"Cute," he says after I've changed, facing away from him. I pull my hair out from my shirt as I turn to face him, confused about what he's referring to. He's in his sleep clothes, standing by the bed.

And he has Hubie in his hands.

Hubie, who I had forgotten to put away the other night.

His expression warps into concern as I freeze, blood draining from my face. Because the last person who held Hubie that wasn't me threatened to throw him out to the dogs.

"I-"

I rush forward, all but vaulting over the bed, and snatch Hubie from Derek's hands. He stares in shock as I jump back away from him, hiding Hubie behind my back.

"Ares-"

I swallow hard. Because Derek wouldn't throw Hubie out. Not if he meant what he said earlier. Even if he didn't, or I misread the whole thing, Derek isn't that kind of asshole. "Sorry, I-" I pull him back out slowly and cradle him to my chest. "My mom gave him to me," I say quietly, and don't reveal how I had to hide him away back home.

Understanding crosses Derek's face. "Sorry," he says. "It just surprised me," he admits. I look up at him, and crinkle my nose.

"It's fine," I assure him. "If it makes you feel better, just know that not even Scott or Stiles have seen him." I hold Hubie up and make him do a little dance, and a smile breaks across Derek's face. "Derek Hale, this is Hubie, and I've had him since I was four and if for some reason you turn traitor and go blab to the deputies about him, I will feed you to the cats at Deaton's."

It surprises a laugh out of him. "I won't go blab," he promises. I regard him for a moment, and, content that he speaks the truth, nod.

"Which side you calling dibs on?" I ask, gesturing to the bed. He looks at it, brows furrowing as he considers the door, and then the window.

"Door," he decides. He moves to the other side, and turning off the light as I crawl under the covers. I considered for a moment to put Hubie away, but decided fuck it. I almost died tonight. I can indulge.

He returns to the bed, and doesn't say anything, or seem surprised when I roll up to him, clutching Hubie to my chest. He turns on his side, facing me.

"You're really close," he says.

"I'm not moving," I tell him. And press closer to him, just to prove my point. He huffs, and it stirs my hair.

"I wasn't asking you to."

* * *

 **OKAY. things to address. 1) Ares' Taser. A couple of you asked about it. Her taser is** _ **not**_ **attached to her keys, and so she didn't have it. Also, her keys were on the hook after she got to the house, so she didn't have those either when facing Scott. 2) Literally my favorite thing anyone has called Ares here is "fajita." Like, I'm in love with that. ElixWolf and Dark-n-Twisty. Y'all. I love it.**

 **3) needs it's own paragraph. I won't be updating 29 next week. I won't be updating again until around Dec. 15. I really hate to leave you guys like this, but I'm running out of chapters and I won't have time to work on it and honestly if I try, I'll probably die.**

 **Okay, this is getting long.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It means so much to me! A shout out to new fav/followers! Those of you who binge? Like whoa! My dear long time friends. Constant reviewers and readers. I literally love y'all.**

 **Stay cool my dudes! Good luck on finals to those who have them! I'll be back with you in a month or so!**

translations  
 _Qué quieres que hago_? - What do you want me to do?  
 _Que lloro? -_ That I cry? _  
Que grito como la pinche Llorona_? - That I scream like the fucking Llorona


	29. Chapter 29

" _WAKE ME UP BEFORE YOU GOGO_ _-"_

Nothing is beautiful and everything hurts. I whine, deep in my throat, ripped from sleep, and my entire body makes its disapproval of my awakening known. Everything is sore, and my shoulder aches from Scott's scratches, and my face feels hot and _throbs_.

But the alarm must not be ignored.

An arm reaches over me.

"We're not running," Derek says, voice rough with sleep and close to my ear, and I wonder why he's here, half turning to the source of his voice. "Don't argue. Go back to sleep." The alarm shuts up, but the arm remains around my waist, heavy and warm and pulling me close against him. I should argue. I really should argue. But little by little my pains are seeping away, and the blankets are comfortable, and Derek's warm, and it's so much easier to just melt into him, and just fade back…

* * *

Scott's already gone by the time my second alarm goes off.

"He'll be fine," Derek says, reapplying medicine and gauze on my cuts, because Melissa is still asleep and I don't want to have to come up with some lie to explain what happened. I had taken a shower earlier, and kinda sorta pulled one open again and it was not fun, let me tell you. It looked like a shitty _Psycho_ remake.

"But he's probably being super depressed and mopey and guilty and -"

"Good," Derek mutters, and I narrow my eyes at him. And he does this thing. With his face. His eyes go wide, and his brows go up, and his expression is soft and open and-That _fucker_. He's playing innocent. Like Stiles does, but Derek actually knows how to use his face muscles when he actually decides he wants to be expressive and doesn't look like a complete idiot.

He looks fucking adorable.

I scowl at him. "You're not cute-ing your way out of this," I tell him, and as quickly as the innocence appeared it disappears, replaced with an unbothered expression as he presses the last bandage in place, smoothing it down gently.

"Worth a try."

"Asshole werewolf," I mutter, slipping around him to get to my closet, where my collection of sweaters and sweatshirts are hidden away. Asshole werewolf that saved my life last night. That make me have feelings. (That might be requited, but we'll talk about that later.) That wants to use Scott as bait to draw out the Alpha so they can kill it.

What bullshit.

"Can you tell?" I ask, pulling a sweatshirt on over my undershirt and looking down to see if the bandages are visible under it. It doesn't bulge where the bandages are, but I look to Derek anyway. He steps up, mischief in his eyes, and gives it a once over before reaching out. He picks at my shoulders, lifting the sweatshirt up a bit and adjusting it just barely to the side. I can't help but roll my eyes.

"You're good," he says.

"Thank you."

"Your face is bruised though," he goes on as if I didn't speak, and I groan, throwing my head back. Because yes, I noticed my bruised face. It formed sometime during the night, a bullseye of black and purple on my right cheek that expands to the outside of my eye and down my jaw a bit. The skin didn't break, and the swelling isn't too noticeable, which is a blessing, but it's sore, throbbing beneath the skin. And my face isn't the only place the bruises have popped up. My leg where Scott dug his claws in has five dark pinpricks, and most of my right side has a smattering of purple and blue from when I had landed when Scott tackled me.

It's all very unpleasant, and I might develop a dependency on tylenol - can that even happen? - before the day is over, because Derek can't be around all day to siphon the pain away.

"I am aware of my bruised face." I crinkle my nose at him, and it pulls at my cheek, and a weaker woman would have reacted to the pain. "I'm aware of my bruised _everything_."

And I want nothing more than to stay home, to stay in bed after downing more Nyquil than recommended. But work is a thing that needs to happen because money is a thing that needs to be made.

Derek is quiet for a moment, his eyes searching. "Does it hurt much?" he asks, gesturing, and his hand brushes my hair back a bit so he can see it better. His expression is… curious, almost, and I can't help but wonder if he's ever been hurt like this before. Like sure, he's been hurt- shit, the guy was shot and poisoned and fought with Scott at least twice that I know of. But I wonder if he's been hurt, and _stayed_ hurt. If a bruise has lasted for longer than a few hours for him. Does that happen for werewolves?

A prolonged, minor hurt that stays for days after before finally fading away.

I give a weak shrug and manage to not pull the bandages free. His fingers brush my cheek, just barely, and his touch, usually warm, feels cool against the bruise.

"I'll spend my day eating Tylenol like M&Ms," I tell him and he scowls. "You can always try kissing it better," I say without thinking. Because that's the kinda snarky ass thing I'd say to Sonya or Warren or even Alicia and Aaron. My face heats when I realize what I just said, and he arches a brow.

"Kiss it better?" he drawls, pulling back some, but leaving his hand where it is. I swallow, and because I might as well own it, I nod, looking up at him expectantly.

"What, werewolf kisses don't make everything better-"

He leans down and kisses the worst bit of the bruise, on my cheek bone. It's soft, his lips on the warm skin, and they stay a second longer than they have any right to.

And my heart has stopped working.

He pulls back, and I stare up at him in shock as he watches my expression. I can feel my entire face flare with heat, and I can't imagine the shade of red I am.

"Better?" he asks, and his voice is smug. So fucking smug. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. It's pay back, I realize. Karma. For when I kissed him Saturday.

"You're an asshole," I manage to croak, before dipping past him, and he laughs. That _fucker_ laughs. "I hate you."

"So not better," he decides, following me out the room. "I can try again," he offers lightly.

And as much as I want him to do just that, I force myself to flee down the stairs. Because if he tries again I will _die_. Be deceased, and Derek Hale would have accomplished what the Alpha has failed twice - three times if you consider Scott's first game - already.

Fucking werewolves. Assholes, the whole lot of them.

* * *

Deaton is understandably alarmed when I walk in with my face looking like I scorpioned on the track. Which is exactly what I tell him happened.

"Don't you usually go with Derek Hale?" he demands, and for the first time since I've met him he sounds not at all like his usually pacifist self. I can't help but draw back to look at him better, because wow. Alan Deaton has more to offer than I thought.

"Derek Hale didn't do anything to make me fall on my face," I tell him, and he doesn't seem convinced as he steps forward to examine the bruise. I huff, but let him tilt my face into the light so he can see it better. "They left a hurdle out on the track this morning, and I wanted to see if I could clear it," I lie.

"A hurdle?"

"A hurdle," I repeat. "I did middle-distance running in highschool, but I dabbled in the hurdles a couple times." I shrug. "If it'll make you think better of Derek, just know he freaked out really hard when I didn't immediately get back up."

And that's only half a lie. Because Derek did absolutely freak out when this happened.

Deaton seems content that my _tripas_ aren't going to come spilling out, but goes on to ask, "You didn't hear ringing, feel dizziness, nausea?" he asks, and as much as I want to roll my eyes, I stop myself. "You didn't tell Melissa?"

"She was still asleep, I didn't want to bother her." And it feels nice that I don't have to lie about that. "I promise I'll tell you if I start to feel bad. Promise."

He regards me for a moment, and I hope against all hope that he doesn't notice that these bruises are darker than they should be for supposably being caused an hour ago. That he doesn't notice the gauze on my shoulder.

"The dogs need to be let out," he says finally, and I break into a smile wide enough that it hurts my face.

* * *

Derek texts about an hour before my lunch break. It catches me by surprise, and Deaton pretends to be very interested in the prescription for an overweight cat so I can read and reply to him.

 **Derek  
** _What're you doing for lunch  
_ (D)  
 _Granola bar, my dude  
_ (A)  
 _That's stupid.  
_ (D)

I draw back, huffing in annoyance. Deaton glances up.

"Derek's a stupid face," I say, and he nods in acknowledgment.

 _Wow, okay thanks  
_ (A)  
 _I'm bringing you food  
_ _What do you want  
_ (D)  
 _You don't have to bring me food  
_ (A)  
 _I know I don't have to.  
_ _I want to.  
_ _Just answer the question because you're getting food either way  
_ (D)

"Is Derek no longer a stupid face?" Deaton asks, almost slyly, and I look up at him. "You're smiling now."

I look down at my phone, and struggle to straighten my face. "He's a different kind of stupid face," I decide.

 _Wow. You're so romantic  
_ (A)  
 _I try  
_ _What do you want  
_ (D)  
 _Bring me…  
_ _Your second favorite thing  
_ (A)  
 _My second favorite thing  
_ (D)  
 _Yes. Your second favorite thing.  
_ _My break is at 12:45  
_ (A)

* * *

12:50 sees Derek and me sitting in the open back of the Turtle with two cartons of takeout Chinese and two glass bottles of Mexican Coke between us.

"What's that?" Derek asks, pointing his fork at the Marine tan hiking bag tucked in the far corner of the open space of the back. I crinkle my nose.

"Ah, yes, that." I hold my carton of orange chicken and rice out to Derek, who takes it so I can grab the bag and try to lug it over into my lap. "Holy shit, it's heavier than I remember," I gasp, and Derek arches a brow. "Nope, that's staying there," I decide, shoving it back into place, and Derek snorts his laughter. I make to grab the food back from him, but he pulls it back.

"What do you have in there, bricks?"

I stick my tongue out at him. "Aaron made me take it. It's my zombie apocalypse survival bag."

"Your _what_?"

I roll my head back. "Bug-out bag, Derek Hale. You know, with a first aid kit, spare phone battery, knife, couple bottles of water, set of clothes…" I trail off at the look on his face. Like he's never seen a survivalist show before. "Um. Aaron was in the military," I say in way of explanation. "And he came back kinda survivalist." Derek nods slowly, and I can tell he's thinking that he must never meet Aaron if he can avoid it. "Anyway, just know I got us covered if the world ends."

He smiles, and hands over my food when I make grabby hands for it. "I'll be sure to come looking for you when the dead start to rise."

"Do you think you'd turn into a zombie if you got bit by one?" I ask before I can stop myself. The look he gives me is one of pure confusion before it shifts into one of contemplation. "Like. Can a werewolf turn into a zombie? Would you turn into a super werewolf zombie?"

"Where do you come up with these questions?" he asks, and I shrug.

"I'm an inquisitive person."

We fall into a comfortable silence, and before long I find my mind wandering back to last night. To Scott's eyes. How it wasn't really Scott at all. I rub at my shoulder absentmindedly, frowning at my food.

"Hey." I look up to see Derek leaning over a bit. "You alright?" I nod once, and it feels like a lie. And apparently asshole werewolf powers detect lies. "Ares."

"I just…" I set the carton to the side and shrug. "Last night really fucking sucked." Derek lets out a breath and puts his food away. "Scott isn't gonna wanna be around me."

"He tried to kill you," Derek reminds me.

"It wasn't him though. It was the alpha." I look up to him, remembering his solution to Scott's problem. "What will happen after you guys get rid of the Alpha?" I ask. His expression closes off and he looks away, and I'm reminded of how I suspected he was hiding something last night. About the whole killing the alpha thing. "What happens when you kill the Alpha?"

"Don't worry-"

I draw back and glare at him, because I am not in the mood for his nonsense. "Don't you 'don't worry' me, Derek Hale," I tell him, and he blinks in surprise. "You can't keep things to yourself, dude! Especially since things are getting so much more… murderous."

He looks like he wants to argue, and I don't care how much he makes my heart happy, I will still punch him in the face. And I think he can tell this, because he lets out a long suffering sigh, rolling his head to the side.

"There…" he gathers his thoughts, tries to figure out the best way to word what he's thinking. "There'll be a shift in power," he says carefully.

"A what now?" I ask, because that sounds very… _Game of Thrones_. And I can't live through another Red Wedding. My heart won't survive it.

"To kill the alpha," he starts, watching my expression as he speaks, "is to become the alpha. The power passes over."

I stare at him as I process the words. "You'll… you'll be the Alpha?" I ask, unsure of how to feel about that. Alpha has a bit of a negative connotation for me, not that anyone can blame me. Derek looks away.

"There isn't any other way, Ares," he says. "We can't let it run around killing people anymore, controlling Scott." _Almost killing you_ is left unsaid, but understood. "And Scott couldn't handle it. He wouldn't even be able to go through with the kill," he goes on, and it's true. Not to mention the idea of Scott running around with that kind of power is just… incomprehensible. But Derek. He's been a werewolf his whole life. He could. Maybe.

But it doesn't sit well with me. Because we're at a good place. Unspoken, but requited. And if Derek were to _change_ …

He reaches out and pulls my hand into his own. I let him, looking down, unable to meet his gaze. "It's the only way to get rid of it."

I inhale, and Derek's expression is sincere, almost pleading when I look up at him. "I know," I say. "I know, it's just…" I hesitate. "You'll still be you, right?"

His expression warps in shock. "Ares…"

I pull my hand out of his, feeling like the worst human. "That was a stupid question," I mutter, ducking my head.

"Not completely stupid," he allows, and I glance up at him. "I'll still be me, Ares," he promises. He offers a smile. "Especially when I know the minute I start acting like an asshole you'll come at me with your taser."

I sigh. "If I must." I pause, crinkling my nose at him. "I mean, you're already saying I act like Scott's alpha already," I tell him, and he makes a face as I go on. "I'm sure I can give you some tips and trick to keeping him in line." He rolls his eyes, but he's fighting off a relieved smile. "You're gonna have to tell him the truth about it first, though."

And his expression immediately darkens, his brow furrowing in annoyance. Rather than answer, he grabs his food and stabs a shrimp with his fork, as if he wishes it were Scott's neck instead. I hold back a laugh at his melodramatic attitude before reaching for my own food.

"So, will you get red anime eyes instead of blue anime eyes?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"That's usually how it works," he says, and doesn't seem quite as annoyed. I hum, frowning. "What?"

I make a face at him. "I like your eyes the way they are," I admit. His expression goes blank before warping into a scowl.

"I don't," he mutters, and there's a story behind that. But he's edging the line toward a bad mood, and I'm not about to deal with that right now.

" _All I wanna do is see you turn-_ "

I frown as I fish my phone out of my pocket, and huff when I see that it's Stiles. Derek makes a face when he notices the caller. I shrug at him before swiping to answer and putting it on speaker, because eating requires two hands.

"Ares-!"

"You're on speaker and Derek is sitting here, think before you speak," I say cutting him off. There's a second of silence before:

"Why the hell is Derek there?"

"Is there a reason you're calling?' I demand, and Stiles huffs. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Study hall. I'm in the bathroom," he explains. "Anyway, I needed to make sure you were alive. Scott said something happened after I left, and he was crying to Allison that you two got into a fight? He isn't talking about it." Derek and I exchange looks. "Did something really happen after I left?"

"It's not that big of a deal. I'm fine. Derek was with me," I say, waving my hand dismissively despite knowing he can't see it. Derek scowls, but doesn't say anything.

"Right well," Stiles drawls. "That sounds like a lie."

"Your face is a lie," I snap, and it really isn't one of my best comebacks. Derek, knowing this, snorts, almost choking on his food.

"Rude!"

"Is there anything else you need?" I ask, holding my carton out to Derek, who takes a piece of orange chicken before offering me a shrimp from his own box. "You're gonna get in trouble."

"I'll be fine- Oh!" he exclaims. "Yes! I meant to call you last night, but I ended up passing out before I could, and then I forgot this morning and-"

" _Stiles_."

"Two bodies were found last night," he says in a rush, and Derek's head snaps up.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I demand, throwing my head back. "Where?"

Stiles lets out a nervous laugh. "That's the thing. They were found at the park. Where we went Sunday night. And I'm pretty sure they're the same guys that threatened you-"

Derek's eyes narrow. " _What._ "

Oh. Shit.

"Stiles, shut up!" I exclaim - because honestly what part of _think before you speak_ does he _not_ understand? -, reaching down to grab my phone, but Derek snatches it away before I have a chance.

"What _guys_?" Derek demands, and Stiles is silent on the other end.

"I think I'm going to hang up now."

"Stiles-" Derek snarls, only to be met with a quick "Sorry, Ares" and the line is cut off. Derek growls in annoyance before looking to me. "What guys?" I roll my head back and reach for my phone. He pulls it away. "Ares."

"A couple of assholes were trying to scare Jackson and Stiles," I tell him. "I told them to fuck off or I'd call the sheriff."

This does nothing to placate him. "They _threatened_ you?" he demands, and his voice comes out with a trace of a growl, that, while I know isn't towards me, I could do without.

"They didn't _do_ anything. Scott scared them off and we left and no one was hurt," I assure him. He doesn't seem convinced. "Besides. Apparently they're dead now, which is horrible, but…" I shrug, unsure of how to feel about the whole thing. "Can I have my phone back now?"

Derek shakes his head, but holds my phone back out. "You need to _stop_ getting into these things, Ares."

"I did nothing," I tell him, making a point to look at him, because I'm really getting tired of people assuming my getting into these situations is _my_ fault. Pulling up my messages, I type away to Stiles, because obviously there's more to these dead guys than he got to say.

 _Does you think the dead guys from the park are related to the Alpha?  
_ (A)  
 _They must be. They've been dead since sunday night, only just found last night  
_ _One was slashed up like the bus driver and guy from the movie place. The other guy was thrown in the fire we made. Still alive, most likely  
_ (S)

"Jesus," I mutter, pushing my phone away and closing my carton of food, appetite spoiled. "I'm done," I decide, and hold it out to Derek. "Want mine?"

He shakes his head, eyeing my phone. "What'd he say?"

I shudder, shaking my head. "They're probably the alpha's doing. It wasn't… pleasant." I hand my phone off so he can read the message, and twirl my fork in my hand as I think.

This stupid asshole Alpha is dead set on getting Scott to join his pack. Plus the fact that it's only just been active-it must be new, right? So it must have killed another alpha… I look up at Derek, brow furrowing as I try to recall our conversation about his family. Laura had been last in line to be the Alpha. She had been Derek's Alpha.

"What?" he asks, noticing me. I almost don't want to ask. "Ares?"

"Did… Did the alpha kill your sister?"

"Oh." He doesn't answer immediately, and it's answer enough.

"I'm sorry," I say. Derek shakes his head.

"You're fine." He pauses. "I think she was looking into what happened to the house. To our family."

I frown. "I thought you said the Argents did it."

"There was no proof." He glares out into the parking lot. "It was ruled as an electrical fire. Laura wanted to know the truth. She came to find out, I think." He looks back to me. "The article I showed you. With the deer. Someone had sent it to her."

It takes a moment to process it all, because this is the most open Derek has been about everything since everything started. A part of me feels kinda… honored? But also horrified, because this Alpha fucking lured Laura Hale to her death.

"The Alpha." I narrow my eyes. "Seriously, fuck that guy," I snap. "I can't wait for you to get your red glowy eyes."

He doesn't answer, but his expression lightens. And that's good for me.

* * *

 **I'm baaack! Thanks for baring this wait (ha) with me, and now that I have some time, I'll be working on this a bit more again.**

 **Shout out to those who jumped in and faved/followed during this little break, as well as those who left reviews! Those are always great and I really appreciate hearing what you guys think. (on that thought, question: do you guys by chance have a faceclaim for Ares? Bc i lowkey don't really, and am just curious as to what you guys might picture of her.)**

 **Welp. It's kinda late, im dying, and i haven't much else to say other than I appreciate y'all.**

 **Stay schway my dudes**


	30. Chapter 30

My shift technically ended ten minutes ago, but Scott hasn't showed up yet, and I'm not leaving until I see him. Because we need to have a talk. A _you almost murdered me but I still love you, you idiot little cousin_ talk.

If I can manage to keep my heart from racing and my throat from going dry and my palms from sweating at the thought of facing said idiot little cousin.

"Is everything alright, Ares?" Deaton asks, and I tear my gaze away from the door to look up at him. He frowns, and the concern is clear in his expression, which sucks, because I didn't think I was doing anything to cause concern. "You know you could have left already."

I nod, glancing back at the door when I thought I saw movement on the other side. There's nothing there. "Yeah… Yeah, no, I know," I say, shaking my head, as if it could shake away the paranoia. "I clocked out and all, I'm just waiting for Scott." I smile up at Deaton, trying for nonchalant, but his frown just deepens.

"He still has five minutes to get here." He pauses. "Not that I want you out, you know I enjoy your company," he amends when I pout.

"I just need to catch him before I leave, because I dunno what he's going to do after work," I explain. Because Stiles had texted some thirty minutes ago saying that Scott told him he was going over to his house after work, which that little fuck. Avoiding me like that. I left Stiles with instructions to make sure Scott gets to work. But teenage boys are not to be trusted, and I think it's safe to say I'm not gonna see either of them anytime soon. And I hate how I feel relief from that.

I huff. "I'll just wait for him at home. Melissa asked me to pick up some groceries, and I don't want to out when it's dark." Deaton nods, and I stand from my chair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doc."

"Goodbye, Ares. Have a good afternoon."

I wave a hand in acknowledgement as I walk out the door in time to see Scott on his bike pulling into the parking lot. I stop short, taking a startled step back when I see him.

"Hey-hey, _burro cabezón_ , way to answer my texts!" I call out to him as he walks his bike to the sign that acts as a makeshift bike rack. He doesn't so much as look at me, and I scowl at his back as I walk up to him. "You realize you can't ignore me forever, don't you?"

"You're afraid of me," he says abruptly, and I draw back at his tone. It's hollow. Not angry, or sad. Nothing.

"I am not-" He straightens and I step back at the sudden movement, my breath catching in my throat and my grip tightening on my keys. He turns to face me, and it's only when his face falls that I realize what I've done. "Shit. Shit, Scott, I'm not-" I drop my hands and take a step toward him. He shakes his head, letting out a sigh.

"Ares, it's fine," he says, voice flat. "Just go home."

I shake my head. "Fuck that. Scott, we need to talk." I reach out to grab his arm, to stop him, to try and get him to listen so we can get past this. He yanks away before I touch him and lets out an irritated growl. I jerk away, nearly stumbling over my feet in my hurry to get back.

"Go home, Ares," he says. And there's something in his voice, a spark in his eyes I've come to recognize in my time with him. He wants to argue. He wants me to disagree with him.

And God, I want to. I want nothing more to pull him into a big, annoying older cousin hug and assure him that it's all gonna be okay and that _we're_ gonna be okay.

But I can't move from my spot. Can't get the vision of wild, golden eyes out of my head, of claws drawn back, all too willing to kill. And I know, I _know_ that wasn't Scott last night. But that does nothing to calm my pounding heart and still my shaking hands.

Scott's eyes lose their spark of hope, and his expression hardens.

"I'll be home later," he says, and darts into the clinic before I can force myself to move.

* * *

As one can imagine, Melissa loses her shit when she finally sees me.

"Ares, that you?" she asks as I sneak past her to the kitchen, muttering under my breath about pride that didn't let me take two trips for the groceries.

"Yeah!" I call out. "Just-fuck!" I inhale sharply as a drop the bags on the counter and pull the plastic from the bags from my hands. "Putting away the groceries!" I shake out my hand and start pulling the things from the bags.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, my dear beloved niece," she says, and I jump, whirling around on reflex, at how her voice comes from the kitchen's entrance and not the living room, where she had been laid up watching a _novela_. "Did you get juice- _ARES_!"

Her face drains of color as she rushes up and immediately takes my face into her hands.

"Okay, don't freak-"

" _Qué pasó_?!" she exclaims, voice high with panic, and it stabs into my very soul. " _Qué hiciste_?!" And as quickly as the panic appeared in her eyes, it's wiped away just as fast, replaced with the fire worthy of Hera's Furies. " _Quién te golpeó_?"

" _Tia_ , please, calm down!" I exclaim, pulling away from. " _Nadie me golpeó_! It's fine, I promise!" She obviously doesn't believe me, and it occurs to me she must have seen this kind of thing in her years as a nurse. " _Me caí cuando fui corriendo_." She narrows her eyes at me, looking for the lie, and I mean, it isn't a complete lie. I did fall on my face while I was running. It just happened I was running from her son, who was trying to kill me. " _Tia, te lo juro, fue solamente mi culpa, nadie mas_."

She searches for the lie. "It wasn't the boy at the diner?"

I throw my head back and scoff. "Please, as if Derek would have let him-" I stop short and look at her. Because I didn't tell her about that.

"The Sheriff told me," she says, and while I'm happy she isn't gonna go off on a rampage of some sort, I can't help but feel absolutely annoyed at her and Sheriff Stilinski. Because can a girl not get into questionable shenanigans with her werewolf bro-it is appropriate to call him that now? - without everyone finding out about it?

" _Chismosos!_ " I exclaim, throwing my hands up. "No, it wasn't that guy! I tried to jump a hurdle and fell. Tell the Sheriff that next time you see him, _chismosa_ ," I accuse.

Her face finally smooths out. "Ares," she chides. I give her a pointed look. "A boy attacked you? We have a right to worry if this is the kind of stuff you get into."

"It's not like I planned on it to happen," I mutter. "And Derek stopped him from doing anything." I shake my head. "When did you two even have time to talk about that?"

"We text," she says simply. "Ares," she goes on at the look I give her. "His son has ADHD and Scott, _amor de mi alma_ , is not always a smart boy and they both have horrible impulse control. This is how the Sheriff and I ensure the survival of our children."

I choke back a laugh, because yes. She makes a very good argument. We work in silence for a moment before she speaks up again.

"So," she starts, and I groan internally. "I couldn't help but notice a certain black camaro in front of the house when I got home."

"Yeaaah…"

She gives me a pointed look. "Am I going to have to give you the gasoline talk?" she demands, and I frown in confusion for a split second before I remember how Scott had mistaken her "fill the tank" talk about the car for a safe sex talk and _Oh my god._

" _No_!" I exclaim, my face burning and no doubt turning the brightest shade of red. " _Tia!_ "

"I'm just saying!" she says, raising her hands in defense. "You're a beautiful young woman, a _responsible_ young woman, and I don't know what's going on with you two-"

"Nothing is going on!" I say in horror. "We just fell asleep watching a movie!" The lie comes out without thought, and I would be worried about how easily it comes to me if not for the fact that Melissa is questioning my virtue.

"Really?" She quirks up a brow and sounds genuinely surprised. "Nothing between you two?"

"Nooo…?"

"That didn't sound very sure," she teases, and I drop my face into my hands and let out a high whine. "Ares, I'm not going to police you about having a boyfriend," she says, and I peek up at her through my fingers.

"He's not my boyfriend." I pause, dropping my hands with a pout. "We're just…"

"You are _not_ just friends," Melissa points out. "Not with how worried he was about you Friday night." I look up at her in surprise. I never did get around asking her about her talk with him. She shakes her head, not noticing my attention. "Honestly, that boy." She gives me a pointed look. "He seems like a good kid, Ares. I'm glad you found him."

My mind wanders to my time spent with Derek. Our trips to the diner, our morning runs. His shift in attitude, not so aloof and guarded. His stupid sunshine smile and multicolor eyes. I can't help the smile on my face as I think to this morning, and his soft kiss.

"Yeah," I agree. "Me too."

* * *

 **Stiletto  
** _Hey are you aware your werewolf asshole friend just stole your werewolf cousin from my house to engage in werewolf shenanigans?  
_ _Without us_

I stare down at my phone, frowning as I sit up from where I lounge on the couch. I was not aware that there were werewolf shenanigans to engage in.

Liking Derek Hale is a rollercoaster of emotions. Happy little butterflies one moment, absolute, utter annoyance the next. I pull up our conversation from earlier today and send a message his way.

 _Explain the werewolf shenanigans you intend to engage in.  
_ (A)

 _I'm going to kill Stiles  
_ (D)  
 _You will do no such thing. And honestly, you should have known better than to think he wasn't going to tell me anything.  
_ _So kindly explain the werewolf shenanigans.  
_ (A)

He doesn't reply, but before I can get even more annoyed and decide it's time to drive around town looking for the idiots, a new message comes in. From Scott. Which is a nice surprise, considering how our conversation went earlier.

 **Human Puppy  
** _dereks drivin were gonna see harris bc his sister talked to him b4 she died  
_ (HP)  
 _Your teacher? Why?  
_ _And why do you need to be there?  
_ (A)  
 _idk backup? its fine were just gonna talk  
_ (HP)  
 _Right. Okay whatever. Be careful, both of you. And pls don't let him beat up your teacher.  
_ (A)  
 _i think im ok w him beating up this one  
_ (HP)  
 _Scott no.  
_ _Be home by 9, you have school in the morning._

He doesn't answer. And I swear, if I wake up to the news that Derek has been arrested - again - I'm beating both of them with Scott's bat. But talking to a teacher doesn't sound too dangerous. Unless the teacher is the alpha?

I shake my head. "That's stupid, that teacher hates Scott," I remind myself. "No way in hell he'd try to tie Scott to him forever."

I glance at the time and wonder if Stiles has been fed something other than frozen pizza and curly fries.

* * *

Stiles opens his front door and turns back into the house without looking up from his phone or a word of greeting. I shake my head at his back and follow him in, closing and locking the door behind me.

"Hey, Stiles, how are you this fine evening?" I ask, dropping my keys on the table in the Stilinski home foyer and grabbing the jacket that didn't quite make it to the coat rack.

"Your stupid werewolf friend stole my stupid werewolf best friend," he calls over his shoulder, and if I didn't already know the Sheriff isn't home right now, I probably would have tackled him to shut him up.

"Don't be so jealous," I tell him, making my way to the kitchen, kicking a pair of Stiles' shoes out of the middle of the hallway as I go. "They're just going to talk to your evil science teacher."

"Ew, Harris?" His head snaps up and he stops short. "Why-Jesus, Ares, your face, what the fuck happened?!" I take a step back and duck out of reach when he reaches out on instinct, and it's a good thing I did, or he'd just add to the damage. "Did this happen last night? Is this what Scott was crying to Allison about? I thought Derek was with you-"

" _Stiles_."

His mouth snaps shut, only to immediately open again. Nothing comes out, and he flails his hands at my face.

"I fell."

"That's a bullshit answer and you know it," he snaps. "What happened? It was Scott, wasn't it? The Alpha got to him, didn't it?"

I consider briefly, very briefly, lying to him again. But I had been lying all day, and I'm beyond stressed - hence the need to get out of the house and be productive elsewhere - and as much as I don't want drop my problems on Stiles, he really is a good person to vent to. But first:

"Will your dad notice if I dip into his Jack?"

Stiles draws back in surprise. "You don't drink anymore."

"I do now," I say, making my way past him to the liquor cabinet. "Don't worry, I cook better when I'm buzzed."

"Ares, this sounds like a very bad idea," Stiles says, and I scoff at his attempt to be the reasonable one for once. I open the doors of the cabinet and grin at the beautiful bottles on display. Let it be known that Sheriff Stilinski knows how to stock up on the good stuff. "If my dad comes back-"

"Your dad works until midnight," I tell him, pulling a bottle and a stout glass. "I'll be done and out of here way before then. Besides, one glass isn't going to get me drunk." I look at him pointedly, and he bounces anxiously before following me into the kitchen.

"Nevermind you haven't drank since before you got here," he mutters, and I have a feeling I wasn't supposed to hear that.

"Stiles Stilinski, were you not the one with the bright idea to get drunk just two nights ago?" I demand, setting down the bottle and cup.

"Yeah, but you weren't included in that. You were just supposed to-to babysit. Because that's what you do!" I look up at him, nose crinkling in disgust at the idea that I'm only good for being a watch out. "Ares, you're the responsible one. The Mom-friend. The Apha! You can't be getting _drunk_ -"

"I didn't sign up to be your stupid mom-friend-alpha, you shit. Not when it almost gets me killed twice in the same week!" My voice raises with emotion as I yank at the neck of my sweatshirt and reveal the gauze of Derek's carefully placed bandages. Stiles gapes at the sight of it. "So shut the fuck up, let me drink your dad's booze, and eat what I make you."

He says nothing, and I almost feel bad about my outburst. Almost. But I can't find it in myself to actually feel anything about it, and instead twist of the cap of the bottle, pour myself a nice amount, and raise it to Stiles' shocked face.

" _Salud_."

I throw back about half the drink. It brings with it a familiar warmth, but it tastes… stronger than I remember. Whatever, it'll be fine.

I look at Stiles, who eyes the cup warily. "So. What do you want for dinner?"

* * *

"You know, I swore off alcohol after coming here," I tell Stiles, who's eating away at a cheese stuffed _chile relleno_. He arches a brow at the newly poured cup in my hand. I ignore his judgy facial expressions and go on. Because I have a _right_ to _express_ myself. "I said to myself, I said, 'Aracely, _niña, no mas._ You're turning into a _borracha, pendeja, que estas haciendo?_ ' _Y sabes que_?" I demand, pointing my cup at him, and the whisky sloshes dangerously within. I don't wait for his answer. "I stopped. _Seis meses._ " I look at him, squinting a bit because he looks a little confused. "You know what that means?"

He blinks up at me. "Six months?"

I let out a proud laugh. " _Carray, que intelligente_!"

"Okay, you're getting a bit too spanglish, Ares, I think it's time you put the cup down-or completely down it, that's cool too," he finishes lamely as I throw back the drink in its entirety. "Nope, you don't get anymore," he says, snatching the bottle away from me when I try to grab it to refill my cup. "You're cut off, I'm cutting you off. Anymore and my dad is going to notice." I whine, slouching into the chair I sit in as he returns the bottle to the cabinet I raided it from.

 _Stupid._ Oh, sure, they can get drunk, but the minute Ares wants to get out of her head for a bit, it's suddenly the worst thing to ever happen. Be responsible, Aracely, take care of the teenagers, Aracely, nevermind you yourself are only three years older than them.

"You want some water?" Stiles offers as he returns. "Get yourself hydrated and home?"

I narrow my eyes at him. " _No_. I'm not even _drunk_."

"Yeah, well, you're not sober either," he counters, taking the cup from my hand. I drop my head back on the back rest and watch upside down as he runs it under the sink, rinsing it out. "Are you gonna tell me what happened to your face now?"

"Scott tried to kill me," I say flatly. "Derek kicked his ass. I'm traumatized." I pick my head back up and blink as the room spins a bit and shit. Maybe I'm a little more far gone than I thought.

"Jesus, Ares, are you serious?" I level him with a look and point to my face. He nods. "Right. So, what're you gonna do?"

I shrug helplessly. "Derek says they have to get rid of the alpha 'cause it keeps killing people and is making Scott all-" I bring up my hands and curl them into claws and let out a growl. "So they gotta kill the fucker and then Scott won't have it in his head anymore and Derek will be in charge and it'll be great."

"Yeah, I guess that wor-wait, Derek will be in charge?" Stiles looks at me in bewilderment and I realize my mistake. "Please don't say that means what I think it means." I don't answer, instead slouching even lower into the chair. "Ares, he can't become the Alpha! He's an asshole!"

"I know, but he's a good asshole. With pretty eyes." I lean my head back and can't stop the soft smile at the thought of Derek's eyes. Everchanging soft brown, green, and blue. " _Y su sonrisa_. _Ay, mi lobito_." I bury my face in my hands and shake my head.

"I don't know what you just said, but I know it was disgusting. What the hell, Ares, since when do you like him like that?" he asks incredulously and I shrug, letting my arms hang at my sides, unable to be bothered by the fact that he now knows. "You're ace, you don't _like_ people."

"I like _him_. I just," I wave a hand dismissively, "don't wanna fuck him."

"Thank god for that," Stiles mutters.

"Whatever," I say, not wanting to think about it anymore. Because I haven't exactly come out as ace to Derek, and I'm not entirely sure how that changes things. Sure, he saw my playlist, but what if he doesn't realize what it really means? Or if he hasn't connected the dots? He isn't stupid, surely he know… Unless he just doesn't know what ace means…

Oh god, am I crushing on a guy that won't be okay with my asexuality? Because I can't deal with that again. Elliot was bad enough.

"Stiles, Stiles!" I reach out and smack his arm urgently. He jerks back, face twisting in offense.

"What?!"

"Would you date a girl who doesn't like sex?"

His face draws in distaste before he realizes what he's doing, and I fall back into my chair in defeat. Fuck. _Fuck_. I'm an idiot. "I'm not sure I'm the best person for you to ask that, Ares," he says quickly, like it can take back his initial response. "I mean, I'm a sex crazed teenager with a regular porn schedul-"

I groan loudly and lurch forward, all but slamming my head into the table before forcing myself to straighten.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asks, voice coated with alarm as I stand. I blink at him, swaying a bit, and grab the table to steady myself.

"I'm gonna go die alone on your couch."

* * *

I really enjoyed reading how you guys see/faceclaim Ares; it was interesting to see how different they were!

As always, I really appreciated the reviews! Shout out to those who fav/followed! I can't wait to drop the next chapter on you, because it's gonna be great. Y'all gonna suffer a bit. It'll be fantastic. (Also i didn't go over this ch editing wise as well as I should have bc I really wanted to throw it out for y'all, soo if there's anything really wrong grammar/spelling wise, pls let me know so I can fix!)

Happy Holidays! Sending out good vibes to everyone this season!

So i feel like I should put this out there that I'm not entirely sure I'm using accent marks correctly and if I'm not, I'm so sorry. I've never really been good at those… Anywho.

Translations  
Qué pasó - what happened  
Qué hiciste - what did you do  
Quién te golpeó - who hit you  
Nadie me golpeó - no one hit me  
Me caí cuando fui corriendo - I fell when I went running  
te lo juro, fue solamente mi culpa, nadie mas - I swear it was just my fault, no one else  
niña, no mas - girl, no more  
Borracha - drunk  
que estas haciendo?' - what are you doing  
Y sabes que - and you know what  
que intelligente - how smart  
Y su sonrisa. Ay, mi lobito - and his smile. Oh my little wolf


	31. Chapter 31

You know, when everything has gone to shit (read, there's a monster werewolf on a rampage, your little cousin keeps trying to kill you, a family of hunters keeps trying to kill your little cousin and the guy you like, not being sure if the guy you like is gonna be cool with your sexuality(or lack thereof)), sometimes the only thing you can do is indulge in the stereotypes.

" _Que bonitos ojos tienes  
_ _Debajo de esas dos cejas  
_ _Debajo de esas dos cejas  
_ _Que bonitos ojos tienes…_ "

I hum along sleepily from where I lay on Stiles' couch. I'm on my side, facing the back of the couch, and have my earbuds in, because while I might be half drunk and in need of some old school music to soothe my soul, Stiles is not. And would only complain because he's a whiny face that doesn't understand the magic of mariachi.

A hand drops on my shoulder and I swat it away without opening my eyes or turning to acknowledge them. Him. Stiles. Little shit. Trying to kick me out already. I _fed him_. The hand returns, and I can just make out the low tones of a voice that doesn't quite fit Stiles as it gives my shoulder a gentle shake.

" _Dejame en paz_ ," I mutter, curling further into myself and burying my face into the back of the couch. But Stiles is a determined shit that doesn't know how to let a girl alone to wallow in her suffering, and he snatches the earbud from my ear. A fatal mistake. Though… maybe not for him.

" _Que me dejas en pa-_ "

I turn, a complete 180, with the intention of slapping the hell out of him. However, the couch is not a bed, and there is a only so much a person can roll before they run out of couch. But instead of crashing into the ground, I land in a pair of arms, cradled against a chest far too broad to belong to Stiles. Also, his arms would have given out immediately. Also, he never would have tried to catch me.

I blink, trying to clear my sudden blurred vision, and look up.

" _Lobito_." I gasp in surprise and push against Derek's chest to get him to let go of me. " _Qué-qué haces aquí?_ " I look past him as he frowns and places me on the couch and steps up from his crouch. Stiles stands a bit away, watching as he chews furiously at this thumb, like he isn't sure what to do about the werewolf in his house.

Which is dumb. Scott comes over almost every day?

"You've been drinking?" Derek asks. I look up at him, letting his words sink in before shrugging.

"Maybe? 't's fine, though. Aracely Maria Delgado can hold her drink!" I exclaim, pushing myself up to stand. But at some point during my doze, the Stilinskis built an incline into their floor, and I found myself stumbling forward. It is only because of Derek I don't crash into the coffee table.

"Aracely Maria Delgado might be out of practice," he says, steadying me with a hand on my elbow, and I go still at how he says my full name. Because it doesn't sound quite as horrible coming from him. Because he says it properly. With an accent. He looks down at me, amusement in his eyes, and his lips quirk up at the corners.

It does things to my heart. Which sucks, because men want more than hearts. Even probably _lobitos_ with eyes worthy of the most beautiful _malagueña salerosa_. I pull away, not wanting his touch anymore, and make a production of straightening my sweatshirt to avoid seeing the confusion in Derek's eyes.

" _Si no me quieres, ya me voy_ ," I say, taking an uneasy step past Derek.

"Yeah, Scott already took your car," Stiles says, and I stop short. My feet stop, my body seems to want to continue forward, and once again, it's Derek that saves me from the curse of gravity.

"Scotty's here?"

"Was here. He left."

"With my _car_."

"He didn't want you driving." Stiles stops pointedly. "Because you're drunk."

"So I'm supposed to _walk_?"

"Don't be stupid," Derek cuts in. "I'm taking you home."

"I'd rather walk," I say sharply before I can stop myself, and he seems to draw back a bit at my tone. Stiles frowns in confusion, looking between the two of us. I clear my throat. "I don't wanna put you out of the way."

He hears the lie for what it is. "Ares-"

"Let him drive you home," Stiles cuts in. "I'm pretty sure my dad has deputies looking out for the jeep, so I can't take you, and you're not walking."

I look between the two of them. And I hate how Stiles has a point. " _Fine_."

I let Derek lead me out of the house and to the camaro. Once I'm situated in the passenger side, I put my earbuds back in and restart my music. I feel more than see or hear Derek as he slides in next to me.

He's still for a second, and I wait for him to say something, even with my music on. But he doesn't, and I close my eyes and rest my head back as he starts the car.

* * *

The car eases to a stop, and I'm pulled from my doze. I blink in confusion, because it's much brighter than it needs to be at the house. My surroundings slowly come into focus, and I frown, pulling an earbud out to look over at Derek, who is unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for the door.

"This isn't the house?"

"I know, stay here," he says, catching my hand when I reach for the door to follow his lead. We're at a gas station, which doesn't make sense, because his tank is full. "I just need to get something."

I fall back into my seat. "Right back?"

"Right back," he promises, and is gone before I can say anything else. I watch as he moves around the car to the front of the store, and disappear inside. He left the car running with the heater, and the radio is playing softly. Not so loud as to be heard over my music. I reach forward and turn the tuning knob, wincing at the bouts of static and the rare Jesus channel. Which, wow. Didn't really think they existed outside of the south.

But soon enough I come across the channel I want, and I'm greeted with the one clear Spanish station that reaches Beacon Hills. The channel plays an advertisement for a _carniceria_ a couple towns over, and I wonder if I can make it over some weekend. When we get past the werewolf problem.

I don't realize Derek's returned until he's pulling open the door and sliding back in. I turn to face him, and he holds out a bottle in his hand.

"What's that?" I ask, eyeing it suspiciously.

"Water," he says flatly, giving it a little shake. I narrow my eyes at the gesture. "Take it. Drink it. Sober up."

"I don't wanna sober up," I say, and I most definitely does not sound like a five year old.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"It is for me."

"Ares."

I scowl, slouching into the seat and not taking his offered gift. And it makes me feel like a bitch, because he went out of his way to do this. Grumbling, I reach out and snatch the water from his hand.

"Thanks," I mutter, and he huffs.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Could have fooled me," he mutters, and maybe its because I'm not entirely sober, or because my time with Elliot has just fucked me up that much, but his tone only serves to aggravate me further, and I dig my ear buds back out, and turn up my music.

Out the corner of my eye I see Derek reach forward and change the radio.

* * *

The second time the car comes to a stop, we've made it to the house. The ride was quiet between us, a tense aura reminiscent of our first run ins after my finding out werewolves are a thing. The water is left forgotten in my lap, and it stays there in spite now, because I can feel the tell-tale twinge of an oncoming headache.

I take a second to put away my earbuds before reaching for the door handle, and I half expect Derek to say anything when I fumble with the lock, hands still unsteady. But he has his gaze fixed forward. Expression hard to read.

And as much I'm upset - why am I upset again? - I know my manners. For the most part.

"Thanks," I say, once I'm out and managed to not fall on my face. I hold up the water I didn't drink when he looks up at me. "For driving me home. And getting me water."

And his expression softens a bit, and he looks like he wants to say something, but I know if he says anything, I'll end up apologizing for my paranoia and shitty attitude, and I don't feel like admitting to being in the wrong, because what if I'm not in the wrong? I have a right to be wary. My track record with relationships proves as much.

I shut the door and stumble back before he can say anything. Just get inside, Ares. Get inside. Where you have a little cousin who thinks you hate him.

Fuck.

I make my way to the porch, picking each step carefully. The camaro hasn't left yet, and sober me would think it's sweet he's waiting for me to get inside. But I am not sober, and it only gives me a sense of anxiety. And maybe I can blame the anxiety and the alcohol sloshing in my empty stomach for not taking a big enough step climbing porch stairs. My toe catches on a step, and before I can right myself, I find myself on my hands and knees on the porch. My knee twinges in pain, a memory of my previous falls, and I'd be surprised if I didn't get splinters.

"Fuck," I mutter, trying to pick myself up,and behind me I can hear a car door open and Derek's alarmed voice calling my name. " _Fuck_ ," I repeat, because I'm not sober enough to deal with this. I push myself over and manage to sit myself on the porch in time to see Derek come to a stop before me.

"Hey, you oka-"

" _Dejame en paz_ ," I mumble, pushing his hands away, and this time he doesn't even try to hide his confusion, or the hurt in his eyes, and I want to stab myself in the neck. Because he's so much better than what I've had before. He cares. And he tries to take care of me.

And it just makes it worse.

"Ares, what…" I look away from him, and he sighs, but doesn't move from where he kneels in front of me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

He's quiet for a second. "Did you hurt yourself?"

I look down at my hands. "No."

"Okay." He pauses. "Ares… Did I do something…?" I look up at him, and have to look back down at his expression. Confused. Concerned. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him reach out, only to stop short and bring his hands back in. "Is this because I brought Scott with me-"

"No!" I shake my head and want nothing more than to slam into into a wall, because no, it's not his fault. "No, I'm not-I'm not mad at you," I assure him. "I'm just…" I groan and bury my face in my hands. Feelings. Feelings are the _worst_. The Sheriff's alcohol doesn't make them any better.

"Ares." Derek drops a hand on my shoulder, and I give a half hearted attempt to shrug it off. "Ares, what's wrong?" I rock a bit, trying to collect my thoughts. Trying to decide if it's worth trying to make my worries known. Derek decides for me, however, as he says, "I'm not leaving until I know you're okay."

I groan again before forcing myself to straighten, drop my hands, and look at him. His expression is stern almost. Mostly concerned.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't like people."

He blinks in surprise, obviously not expecting that. "Okay?"

"No, not okay." I huff. "I don't _like_ people. _Like_ like. It's not a thing I do." Understanding lights in his eyes, only to be immediately be replaced with hurt. Disappointment. And I hate it. _Hate it_. And I can't stop myself from reaching out and taking his face in my hands, and his eyes go wide in surprise as I pull him close. "But Derek Hale, I _like_ you. _Like_ like."

He stares at me, not saying a thing, and dread builds in my gut. Because he isn't reacting. But hey, if I misread the whole situation between us, at least I don't have to worry about my asexuality being a problem.

I start to pull away, because clearly I have made a mistake and need to get the hell inside and away before I make things worse. But he catches my hands before I can, his expression softening. He huffs, shaking his head before bringing up one of my hands. I go still, staring in wonder as he brings it to his lips, and presses the gentlest of kisses against my fingers.

"Ares Delgado, I _like_ you."

" _Like_ like?" I ask - hopelessly, helplessly - before I can stop myself, and a smile plays at his lips, like he can't believe he has to say it.

" _Like_ like."

 _Los angelitos cantan_. A delighted laugh escapes before I can stop it, and Derek rolls his eyes. But there's amusement there. And for a moment, I forget about whatever it was that bothered me earlier. I was upset earlier? Who cares, because Derek Hale officially likes me back. _Like_ likes.

"Is that…" He hesitates. Reaches out and pushes back a stray strand of hair from my face, his fingers brushing against my cheek, like he had this morning. "Is that what had you upset?"

I nod. Because yes, this had been a subject of stress before. That and the whole ace-oh _shit_. I shake my head, despair welling in my chest, making it impossible to articulate my worries. That we'll get invested. That we'll be happy. That I'll tell him I'm ace and then we won't be happy. He won't want me anymore, because Derek Hale isn't the same type as Elliot, no where close. But in a way, that's worse, because then I can't hate him like I hate Elliot.

He senses my turmoil, he must, because he makes to cup my cheek, and I duck away, pushing him back and scrambling up.

"Ares, what-"

"You _like_ like, but then you're gonna _like like_ like, and I don't _like like_ like, and you're gonna stop _like_ liking me, and-"

"What does that even mean?" he demands, frustration seeping into his voice as he picks himself up and starts to follow me up the porch steps. "You're not making sense-"

"I'm asexual!" I exclaim, throwing my arms out dramatically, and he freezes where he is on the first step. "I'm ace. I'm not sexually attracted to you, Derek Hale, but that doesn't mean I don't _like_ you, or, or don't want for you to be more than my bro, because I _do_." He stares at me in shock. Gone is the concern and confusion and frustration from before. Only wide eyes, hands fallen limp at his sides.

"Oh." He blinks, and doesn't say anything else. Just. _Oh_. Nothing in it. At least Elliot had emotion when I told him, even it if was anger. Annoyance.

With Derek it's just. _Oh_.

And it's so much worse.

I feel myself deflate. Shake my head, because this is what I expected, isn't it? For the _like_ like to go away once I told him. Congratulations, Ares, you proved yourself right.

"I'm goin' to sleep," I say, unable to say anything else. Wanting to just be away from his silence. His _oh_.

It seems to knock him back to his senses. He shakes his head. "Ares-"

" _Dejame en paz. Quiero dormir._ "

What I want is for him to elaborate on the _oh_. What I want is for him to fuckin' stop me and say, hey, being ace is totes cool, I still think you're great.

He doesn't, though. I guess even _lobitos_ gotta draw a line somewhere.

* * *

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

What better way to end the year than with good old fashion angst (i mean, I tried).

Catch y'all on the flip-flop, my dudes.

Translations

Que bonitos ojos tienes/Debajo de esas dos cejas - what beautiful eyes you have / under those two eyebrows  
Dejame en paz - Leave me in peace/ alone  
qué haces aquí - what are you doing  
Si no me quieres, ya me voy - if you don't want me I'm leaving  
Quiero dormir _-_ I want to sleep


	32. Chapter 32

(Heads up, there's a big ole A/N at the end talking about asexuality and Ares - Animefreak4994, I see you boo boo) (before I forget: I didn't name Ares Aracely bc it had ace in it. I picked Ares before Aracely, and Aracely was the only name I could get that nickname from, but that's a cool catch! I didn't even notice it lol)

* * *

After my first alarm goes off, I stay in bed for thirty minutes. Staring up at the dark ceiling and wanting nothing more than to slip back into the abyss of sleep, because my stupid ass- my _dumb, drunk_ ass - fucked up last night with Derek.

 _You just had to tell him. You just had to throw it out there, didn't you?_

I whine, grabbing my pillow and pressing it against my face in hope that I can just smother myself into unconsciousness. Idiot. IDIOT. _IDIOT_.

 _Oh_ , he had said. What does that even mean, _Oh_. As in, _Oh, that sucks, let's never speak again?_ Or is it more of an _Oh, that's weird, but okay I can work with it_. Or maybe even a blessed _Oh, okay, I respect your sexuality and understand what you need and will work with you-_

It doesn't matter what that damn _Oh_ meant, because my stupid _stupid_ self made him leave before he could explain the _oh_.

He could have stopped me though. He could have asked me to wait. I would have. Probably. Unless he was respecting my decision to to be left alone? Or maybe he wanted an excuse to run away as soon as possible, because "What the hell even is that, asexuality?" as Elliot had blurted when I came out to him.

 _Ay_ niña, _you done fucked up a perfectly good relationship._

But what if I haven't yet? Maybe-maybe he'll text later, and we can act like last night wasn't a thing. We'll get lunch sometime this week. We'll plot a murder most foul and kill the alpha and we'll be bros again-

" _Derek Hale, I_ like _you._ Like _like."_

" _Ares Delgado, I like you."_

"Like _like?"_

"Like _like_."

GOD WHY DID WE HAVE TO SAY THAT.

I let out a frustrated scream into my pillow. I'm going back to Texas. I'm going back to Warren and Sonya and live as a basement dweller with them.

 _Ya levantate, niña soflamera_. I groan at the voice, which sounds suspiciously like Elisa, and can all but feel the phantom hand that would often accompany the voice with a smack across my shoulders. Why can't she just leave me alone, even now? _Levantate, huevona!_

I force myself up, because as much as I hate that stupid phantom voice, it has a good point. I can't just lay here all morning. Productive things need to happen, especially since I've flaked on running. Twice already. A shower needs to be had, breakfast and coffee has to be made for the McCalls of the house, and then work.

The world doesn't stop just because you fucked up your chances with the residential asshole werewolf.

* * *

I hear Scott come down the stairs, and his footsteps pause in the living room. I half expect him to make a break for the door, which would be ridiculous, because he still has an hour before school, and it only takes him at the most fifteen minutes to get there on his bike. But in the end, the smell of fresh bacon, eggs with chorizo, and warm tortillas entices him enough to get him to drag his feet to the kitchen.

He appears at the entrance of the kitchen, hesitant to come in. I look at him, banish the sight of golden eyes before it can manifest in my minds eye, and nod to the table where his plate waits. A rigidness I almost didn't catch before melts away from him, and the closed off expression he seemed to have adopted from Derek is replaced with a hopeful shine in his eyes. A flicker of my idiot little cousin before monday night. A flicker, but there nonetheless.

He makes his way to the table, moving far more carefully than he ever has since I've been here, and I hold off the need to roll my eyes.

" _Quieres café?_ " I ask, already reaching for a mug for both himself and myself. He hums in affirmation, and I pour a healthy serving in both mugs, though more in mine than his so he has room for creamer. There's enough left in the pot for Melissa's thermos, and her breakfast burrito has already been wrapped and set aside for her to grab on her way out. I bring both mugs to the table, setting one in front of Scott and take the other with me when I move to sit across from him at the table.

We sit in silence, and I watch as he pours creamer in his drink, mixes it, and takes a tentative sip.

"Good?"

He looks up and offers a small smile. "Good." He pauses, glancing down at the food before glancing up at me. "Ares, are you… Okay?"

My brows furrow in confusion. "From Monday? Yeah, _mijo-_ "

"No, not Monday-I mean, yeah, Monday too- but I mean…" he hesitates, as if he's trying to decide if it's worth bringing up. "Last night?"

Ah. Right. Of course he heard that. "You… heard us talking?" I ask, blowing at my cup to avoid looking at him.

"Caught bits and pieces. I tried not to listen!" he adds in a rush. "It's just, you can't exactly turn it off." He gestures to his head, and I nod in understanding. "But, it wasn't just that. I mean, you came in and listened to Vicente Fernandez and Juan Gabriel for like, two hours before you fell asleep."

" _Con dinero y sin dinero-!"_ I start singing, holding up my mug to mimic sloshing around a bottle of _cerveza_.

"Ares," Scott scolds, and I bring my drink back down and take a drink. "I'm being serious. You and Derek are… close, I guess." I avert my gaze, grabbing at one of the tortillas and tearing at it. "What, uh, what happened between you two last night?"

I look at him. "What happened with _you_ two last night?' I counter, and he huffs.

"We went to go see Harris. Apparently Laura went to see him before she died."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. Derek didn't say. And he didn't get anything out of Harris, because the Alphakindashowedup." He says the last bit in a rush, and its then I realize he's hanging out too much with Stiles. But I hear what he has to say well enough. And it's alarming, to say the least.

"God, is your teacher still alive?"

"Yeah. It ran after we showed up, but we didn't get to talk to Harris." Scott takes a moment to shovel some food in his mouth. "But Derek says Allison's necklace might be another lead, so I'm gonna ask about it today. See if I can find anything about it."

"Huh."

He nods, and we fall back into silence. It isn't… uncomfortable, but it isn't exactly comfortable either. He eats, I drink, and we wait for Melissa to come down to dish out "good mornings." But I can't really take this, and he keeps looking at me like he's waiting for me to say something.

Better not disappoint him.

"I got drunk last night," I tell him, and he straightens in interest, recognizing a story. "And I-I came out." I glance up at him. "As ace."

"Oh." There it is again, that damn _oh_. But Scott's known about me, found out the day he asked about a pin I have stuck on my battered old backpack, now hidden away in my trunk. He didn't quite understand, but he was respectful. Supportive. "How'd he take it?"

 _Oh_.

"I don't think he took it at all." I huff. "He just stood there. ' _Oh'_ he said. Just. _Oh_." I shrug. "I dunno, I was drunk. And I don't know what that means! Is he cool with it? Is he not? Jesus, I don't think he'd be like Elliot, but what if he got mad that I made him leave?" I cover my face with my hands. "This is _stupid_. Get the guy and immediately fuck it up."

Scott is suspiciously silent. I thought he'd be ecstatic with this screw up between me and Derek. No more having him around if we don't fix it. No more having to deal with him any more than he has to. I peek at him between my fingers and remove my hands at the contemplative look he has on his face.

"I don't think," he starts, speaking slowly as if gathering his thoughts, "Derek would be bothered by seeing someone who is ace." He pauses. "I don't think Derek would care that it's _you_ who's ace," he corrects, and his voice is a bit strained, like he has to force himself to say it. Which makes sense, because Scott would never say anything in Derek favor for anything.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Explain your defence," I order, and his face twists in distaste.

"I'm not _defending_ him," he snaps, and I arch a brow. "I'm just saying. Ares, he…" Scott takes a breath, preparing himself for what he has to say. "Derek likes you. Like. _Really_ likes you. You're practically his Allison!"

The words take a second a sink in. Because Scott's feelings for Allison are… something else. And for him to say that… I wave it off.

"Thanks, but even if Derek does like me, I'm probably not gonna be anyone's Allison."

Scott huffs. "Fine, not his Allison." I nod, because that's more like it- "You're his _Ares_. His crappy human, or whatever it is he calls you." I stare at him in surprise. "Look, I don't like Derek, or trust him, and I hate myself a little talking him up to you, but I'm not saying all this crap for him. I'm saying it for you, because you like him, and he likes you and I don't want you to walk around the house all mopey all the time." He stabs at his eggs in annoyance.

I can't help but smile at his reasoning. But still, there's that doubt that's probably never gonna leave me alone until I hear it from Derek himself, and even then it's up in the air. But Scott's as good as stand in as any. Much better than Stiles, that's for sure.

"Scott, would you still be with Allison if she didn't, you know."

"Want sex?" I huff, but nod. He leans back in thought. "I mean, sex is great, but it's not why I love her. I love _her_. Her smile. Her eyes. Her dimples. The way she cares and isn't evil like her family."

One of these things is not like the other. But I guess I get his point.

"That's impressively poetic for someone who's barely passing English."

"I could write a sonnet for her."

I roll my eyes at him. "Thanks, Scott."

Melissa chooses this time to make her appearance, walking in the kitchen with a pleased smile. "I thought I smelled something delicious," she says before pressing a kiss to Scott's head and dropping a hand on my hurt shoulder. I wince, just a bit, and she doesn't seem to notice.

"Burrito?" I ask, reaching across the table for the wrapped goods and holding it out for her.

"Thank you, honey. You didn't run today?" She takes the food and moves back to the counter to prepare her coffee.

I glance at Scott. "I think I'm gonna hold off on running for a while," I say. "Considering I keep hurting myself."

"It's probably for the best." She comes back and taps my head. "Let me see." I huff and turn in my chair. She takes my face in her hands, eyes scanning the marks. "Swelling's gone down, which is good. You're incredibly lucky you didn't get a concussion out of it."

"I'm invincible," I assure her. " _Soy el Chapulín Colorado._ "

Scott scoffs. "You fall enough."

"Rude!"

"Alright you two. I'm off. Scott, I'll be at your game tonight, so play your best!"

"Game?" I look to Scott as Melissa leaves, breakfast in tow.

"If we win, we go to State." He pauses. "You're coming?"

"Do you want me to come?"

"Duh, you idiot cousin."

I fight back a smile. "Then I'm there."

* * *

It's during my lunch break that Scott texts and orders me outside because he's about to call me with super secret werewolf information.

"What's up-"

"Jackson knows!" Scott exclaims, and I stop short. He sounds panicked as he goes on. "I don't know how he found out, but he knows about me and Derek and he threatened to tell Allison!"

" _What_."

"I didn't tell him, I swear!"

God. _Dios_. Why do You test me so? "No, I know you didn't tell him." I throw my head back and run a hand through my hair. "What does he want?"

"What?"

"He's blackmailing you, isn't he? What does he want?" Scott goes quiet, and when he speaks, it's a mumble I can't understand. " _Mijo_ , I need you to speak up."

"The _Bite_. He wants to be like us." It's all I can do to not throw my phone, because are you _kidding_ me? And I say as much out loud. "No, I'm not _kidding_ ," Scott snaps. "Ares, what do I do?!"

"Calm the fuck down, for starters," I tell him, struggling to do the very thing I told him to do. I take a breathe and try to shove down the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. " _Fuck_ ," I breathe, closing my eyes.

If Jackson tells Allison, Scott and Derek are fucked. If he tells, he's fucked, because lord knows the Alpha will _murder_ him.

"Is he bluffing at all?" I ask, hoping against hope.

"Didn't sound like it."

Of course not. "Look, you're gonna have to figure something out. Tell him how shitty it is having someone in your head. Tell him the Argents will murder him. Just… get him to back off."

Scott sputters on the other end. "How am I-"

"Dude, I don't know! But you know him better than I do." I pause. "Scott, I can't figure this one out for you. Unless you choose to slash his tires. That's my idea and all I got."

"I can't slash his tires," he says in a defeated voice.

"Can't, or won't?"

"Ares," he says, and I can hear his scowl. "I need you to go to Allison's after work today," he adds.

I cock my head to the side, sure I misheard him. "Uh, what now?"

"She left her necklace at home and I don't have time after school to go with her. So I said you were the one who wanted to look at it again and that you'd see her after school."

Of course he did. "Did you forget that, according to Stiles, the Argents think _I'm_ the werewolf out of the two of us?"

"You'll be _fine_ , Ares. It won't take you more than ten minutes. Just take some picture of it."

"And what if there isn't anything about it that leads to the alpha?" He goes quiet, and I huff, mind already sorting through options should my adventure at the Argents fail. "What about the number that texted us?"

"What about it?"

"Well, Silverman said they tracked it, but wouldn't tell me anything about. Maybe Stiles can find it again and we'll figure out something the deputies didn't."

"That's… not a bad idea."

"I know, I came up with it."

He huffs. "Alright, I have to go. I'll see you at the game."

He hangs up before I can say my goodbye, and I stare down at my phone before shaking my head. That boy. At least we got over Monday. I sigh, dropping my head back and closing my eyes. The universe. Why does it hate me so?

I turn to return back inside to waste the rest of my lunch playing on my phone inside when an all too familiar black car pulls into the lot. I consider, briefly, running inside, telling Deaton I'm hiding in the back with Tiny Feline, and letting him deal with the situation. Because apparently I'm a weaker woman than I thought. But I dismiss the idea almost as soon as I get it, and instead stand awkwardly, nervously, on the sidewalk as Derek turns off the Camaro. He takes a second longer than he should to get out, and when he finally does, he stands by his door for a moment. Awkwardly. Nervous.

And I guess I'm not the only one maybe considering making a run for it.

"Hey," I call out, and hate the faint crack in my voice. I clear my throat and try again. "Hey."

His posture loosens, his expression lightening a bit. "Hey," he repeats, and I absolutely do not twiddle my thumbs as he makes his way up to me after shutting the car door. He stops in front of me, further than he would have before, and isn't even on the sidewalk.

"You just… in the neighborhood?" I ask, and he shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets. "Cool." We stand in silence, and my mind races. What do I say? Hey, sorry I dropped that on you last night, let's be bros and act like it never happened? Or, hey, why the hell didn't you stop me last night? Or maybe just start with what Scott's having me do later-

"I'm sorry,"

"I'm going to the Argents' after work."

We speak in unison, our words overlapping, and it takes all of a millisecond to detangle and realize what we said.

"Absolutely not you're going to the Argents," he cuts in before I can say something about his sorry, and I draw back at his sharp tone. He seems to realize that maybe that isn't the best way to speak to a person, and tries again. "Why?"

"Allison left her pendant at home, and Scott doesn't have time to go with her." I shrug. "He told her I wanted to look at it so into the hunter's den I go, I guess." I pause, remembering Stiles' words only five days ago, when Kate fucked up my car. How they probably think I'm a werewolf too. "I'm gonna die."

"You're not going to die because you're not _going_ ," Derek says, stepping up on the sidewalk.

"I have to! It's not like you can waltz in and take a look at the thing." I hesitate, consider telling him what Stiles thought. "Would they… would they think I'm the second beta just because I hang out with you?" I ask, picking at the hem of my sweatshirt, not looking up at him. "Because, I really don't wanna walk in to just get shot in the face. I'm tired of getting my face messed up," I add lightly, but it's lost on him.

His expression is conflicted, and finally he says, "A werewolf would have healed already. They'll know you're human." This doesn't necessarily mean they won't hurt me. He knows it as well as I do. But it needs to get done, and if no one else can, then we might as well throw me to the wolve-wolf hunters?

We lapse into a silence, not quite awkward. I know for a fact I have most of my lunch break left, and Derek might have an idea of this from our meal yesterday. Probably why he showed up now.

"So," I start, rocking back on my heels. He arches a brow at the movement. "Last night."

He nods. "Last night."

"You said you liked me."

"You said it first."

"I was drunk."

The words would have hurt anyone else. But not Derek, because he's an asshole werewolf, and asshole werewolves come with asshole werewolf powers. The corners of his lips tug out. "You weren't lying though."

"No. No, I wasn't lying." I pause. "I also said I was ace." The words come out slowly, carefully, and I watch his face closely for a reaction. There's no annoyance, no disgust or anger. No downward pull of his lips to signal a negative outcome. His eyes stay clear, his expression open, though his brows go up just a bit.

"Yes, you did."

"And?" I ask anxiously, tugging at the bottom of my sweatshirt.

"And," he starts, drawing in a breath and raising his shoulders in the beginning of a shrug. "I think already knew that."

That. I wasn't quite expecting that.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He huffs, running a hand through his hair and looking away. "This is going to sound weird," he mutters to himself. "Werewolves can pick up the chemical changes in people. Scents change, and different scents mean different things."

"So how you and Scott know I'm repressing shit?" He nods. "Huh. That's cool." I look up at him, cocking my head to the side. "How does that-"

"Arousal." My mouth snaps shut. "We can smell arousal."

"Oh."

"And you've never been aroused-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," I say, holding up a hand to stop him. He doesn't even try to hold back his smile at how he got me flustered. "Derek Hale, that doesn't mean anything. Maybe you're just not my type," I say pointedly, and he actually scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, I considered that. As unrealistic as it sounds," he adds with a grin, and it's my turn to roll my eyes. Shallow asshole. "I actually had to go walk around the mall to make sure I still had it-"

"Oh my _god_." I throw my head back. "You're the _worst_."

"I'm kidding. I went to a bar."

"Derek Hale, I'm leaving."

He catches my hand before I can, and struggles to hold back his laughter. "I'm kidding."

"So, you knew?"

"I figured," he allowed. "I just… didn't really know what it was until you told me."

I look down at our hands. "And… it doesn't bother you?"

"Ares-"

"Because it's fine if it does," I say in a rush. "I mean, it sucks, and I'm not looking to get invested in something that just gonna explode into nothing, but it's normal for you to not want me-"

"I want to be _with you_ , Ares," he says, cutting me off and taking a step forward. I suck in a breath, having not been prepared, and hold said breath as he goes on. " _You_ , you impossible human. You chase after werewolves and you care and _love_ and Jesus, you're the only one that makes me feel…" He trails off, struggling for words. "Ares, you make me _feel_." The breath rushes out, and there's a familiar burning lump in my throat as my vision blurs, because Jesus Christ. Derek Hale. Really knows how to make a girl feel special.

"Oh," is all I can croak out. "You're a fucking asshole," I say, letting out a watery laugh, and a smile plays at his lips. "Making me cry."

"Sorry," he says, not sounding sorry at all.

"So, you're okay with it?" I ask again, just to be sure. Because pretty words are great, but… Elliot was good with pretty words in the beginning. Derek nods patiently before smirking.

"I can take care of myself."

I crinkle my nose. "And, I'm not, like, completely, you know. Sex repulsed," I say in a rush, and he quirks a brow in interest. "It just… takes some working up to. We can talk about it later," I add quickly-because time and place, Ares, come on-and he huffs out a laugh.

"Sure." He pauses. Opens his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by the front door of the clinic being thrown open.

"Ares, are you-oh." Dr. Deaton stops at the sight of us, and Derek lets out a frustrated breath.

"Dr. Deaton!" I say in default brightness, stepping back from Derek, because while it is my lunch break, this probably wasn't the best place we could have had this conversation. "Hey, hi, what's up?"

He gives us a once over, and seems to have something to say about how our hands are still intertwined, but decides against. "Sorry to interupt your break, Ares, but Mr. Davis just called. His Pom has been sick, and he's bringing it in. I need help preparing the examination room."

"Oh." I glance up at Derek, then back at the doc. "Yeah, I'll be there in a sec." He nods and retreats back into the clinic. Derek groans, and before I realize what he's doing, drops his head on my shoulder. I hold back a laugh and reach up a hand to pat the back of his head.

"There, there, _lobito_ , we can talk later," I assure him, and he huffs, picking his head back up. "When I'm done with the Argents."

"I'd rather you didn't go," he mutters.

"I'd rather I didn't go either, but whatever, am I right?"

He scowls. "Be careful."

I crinkle my nose at him. "I'm always careful."

He arches a brow. "Really?"

"At the very least I always get back up, and that's all that matters." I nod back at the door. "I… better go help him. Mr. Davis is obsessive when it comes to his dog."

Derek sighs. "Alright." He steps back, ready to turn to leave. Before he does, though, he seems to be hit with a split second idea, and turns back to me. I feel my face flare red as he presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, because goddammit Derek Hale. He pulls back, and grins. "I'll see you later," he says, and this time does turn back to his car.

"I _hate you_!" I call after him, and we both hear the lie.

Fucking _werewolves_.

* * *

Happy New Year! Happy chapter end! Super huge thanks to those who left reviews - I always really appreciate hearing what you guys think. Also, shout out to new fav/followers! And my people who have been here forever!

So, a heads up. Didn't write nearly as much as I wanted to over the break, so I don't have my chapter back up. I only have two chapters after this, and the second is kinda intense and I need to know what's going on after, so I probably won't update next week until I write again. But no worries, I will be back!

Okay, Ares and Asexuality. Ares being asexual. (Keeping in mind that it's a spectrum and I'm pulling from what _I_ know and feel and wish I saw represented in characters) Ares, as she said, isn't sexually attracted to people. She doesn't look at Derek and is like, I want to have sex with that man. It isn't that she just doesn't like sex or had a bad experience. She _**is not**_ sexually attracted to him. No arousal when looking at him. No arousal when looking at _anyone_. She says she isn't entirely sex repulsed, but it takes some working up to. (Keep in mind, some asexuals do have sex, and that does not take away from their asexuality.) (We'll learn later that she's more sex repulsed than she realizes, but she's more comfortable with Derek and feels safe telling him these things (and gives all the more reason to hate Elliot later)).

But Ares is a _romantic_ asexual, so she still feels romantic attraction. She still _Like_ likes, as she puts it. Has crushes. She still wants a romantic relationship. She wants a relationship, and is completely capable of having one with kisses and cuddles and shitty movie marathons. There's just… no sex. All Netflix. No chill.

(the following links are stylized like that so they don't disappear and if they do I'm sorry, let me know and I'll figure out how to make them stay)

I don't know if I'm doing a good job at explaining this. This is just _my perspective_ , and there's a whole bunch of other perspectives out there. There are blogs and posts on tumblr that talk about it, such as this post: **blazinaces. tumblr** post/169397328363/the-true-definition-of-asexuality

You can also check out the AVEN (Asexual Visability and Education Network) website at **asexuality. org**

The subreddit r/asexuality is a thing too where aces discuss and talk about their experiences (and I personally haven't run into troubles with it, but it is reddit sooo YRMV) so you can get their perspective on things. **_reddit_** r/asexuality/

There's also a _fantastic_ book called _The Invisible Orientation_ by Julie Decker. I literally cannot recommend it enough. She's an aromantic asexual, and she does a really great job explaining what's up with the ace spectrum and different orientations and literally it's just fantastic. There's a limited preview of it on google books.

A more academic point of view is Anthony Bogaert. He pretty much put asexuality on the map for academics with a paper he wrote in 2004. He has a book called _Understanding Asexuality_.

I'm sure there's other sources out there (these are the ones I know off the top of my head and a few I used for a paper last semester). But if anyone is interested, feel free to send a message, and I can hunt down more sources. This is probably overkill with sources, but hey. The more you know!

And since this A/N is already a monster, i'm gonna use this time to self promote and remind y'all that the tumblr exists and I'm at **thegalanerd . tumblr . com** so pls come and send me memes and if I remember I'll post progress reports on how writing is going.

OKAY THAT'S IT IM DONE

Catch ya on the flip flop!

Translations

 _Ya levantate, niña soflamera -_ Get up melodramatic girl  
 _Huevona! -_ Lazy, but with more negative connotations  
 _Quieres café? -_ Do you want coffee  
" _Con dinero y sin dinero-_ With money and without money - From the song _El Rey_. Vicente Fernandez covered it and that's the one I few listening too. Perfect drinking song /s  
 _Soy el Chapulín Colorado. -_ I'm the Red Grasshopper. He's a Mexican superhero character played by the late great Chespirito, known for both _El Chapulín Colorado_ and _El Chavo de Ocho_ , among other things. It's great. I love it.


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